


At the End of the Network

by Lilyliegh



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Case Fic, Detectives, Holidays, M/M, Mystery, Technophobia, Yuusaku and Ryouken's holiday turns into a mystery, but really they just wanted a quiet vacation, sometimes this fic takes itself seriously and other times it doesn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-09-24 22:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 98,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilyliegh/pseuds/Lilyliegh
Summary: Exhausted and overworked, Yuusaku and Ryouken take a holiday away from Den City to the quaint town far away from civilisation. The worst they had suspected was simply being disconnected from technology; however, children have been disappearing and reappearing in the town, and electronic devices have been washing up on the innocent shores. With the villagers themselves technophobic, Yuusaku and Ryouken take it upon themselves to get to the bottom of the mystery and hopefully end their vacation on a peaceful note.If only they could solve the case while stranded in the middle of an isolated town with no connection to Den City, and surrounded by adults and children alike who think technology will melt their brains and steal their souls.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! This fic was written towards the end of S2, so the whole Ai and Roboppy as androids plot hadn't appeared - and thus some elements of this fic are very, very AU. That said, it was a pleasure to write one last time for Vrains <3 Enjoy!
> 
> and thank you very much to my artists, bA and Tarashima - with their permission, I'll have their artworks up in later chapters ^^ They did a spectacular job! <3

"You don't look like you're enjoying that."

"I  _ am,"  _ Yuusaku said through his teeth. The tip of his pencil was ground into the back of his mouth, and his dry eyes remained on the textbook in front of him. Two more chapters and he'd give himself a break long enough to refill his coffee-stained mug and splash water on his drooping face.

"You've been working on that all night."

"Day."

"Yuusaku, it's two am."

Hm. It was, and that should have surprised him more considering the last time he checked the time, it was two in the afternoon and he'd made himself a cup of coffee. Had it really been so long since then? His legs didn't hurt—couldn't even feel them, in fact—and his stomach wasn't aching even though, if had been twelve hours since he last got up, it had been much, much longer since he'd eaten.

A pair of strong hands settled on his shoulders, tilting him back from his computer. He kept his head forward until the same pair of hands trailed up his jaw and tipped  _ him  _ forward, so that his gaze was no longer captured by the bright computer screen, but by a pair of equally bright, blue eyes. Ryouken's long fingers tickled his jaw, finding their place just below his ears.

Naturally, the effect was ruined by his lips pressed in a tight line.

"You ought to take better care of yourself."

"I am." He brushed his hands away. As he got to his feet, his legs twinged with pins and prickles. He let out a soft groan as he grabbed his coffee mug and stumbled out of the study and into the kitchen. The entire house was dark, with only faint moonlight streaming through the large bay windows surrounding the living room and kitchen. Normally, he'd take in the sight of Stardust Road and its million stars trapped under the sea, but tonight he was still coming to terms with that fact that it was nighttime and he hadn't even realised it. He remembered leaving coffee in the pot that afternoon after he'd made his cup, but when he now lifted the pot out of the machine, he found clean, clear glass staring back at him. With a shrug, he set about making another pot.

"I think you need sleep, not another pot of coffee," Ryouken said. He lounged against the fridge, arms crossed over his chest. At this late hour, he should have been in his pyjamas, or what he considered pyjamas: loose slacks and a t-shirt that somehow still looked like an outfit you could leave the house in. But he was still in his business attire, dress pants and a blazer, and the only 'dressing-down' part of his outfit was his loosened tie dangling around his neck.

Yuusaku shrugged and turned on the machine.

"Are you still studying for that test?"

No. In fact, the test Ryouken was referring to was due two days ago and he knew he didn't pass.

"It's late."

The machine clicked off with a soft ping and he poured himself a cup: black, no milk or sugar or syrup to dilute the caffeine. Bringing the cup to his lips, he breathed in the aroma. Seeing Ryouken's strong glare over the rim of his mug soured the mood.

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine."

"The perfect example of fine."

He tipped back the cup, wincing at the heat on his tongue. Somehow, the caffeine didn't give him quite the buzz he expected, and long after the sip, he only felt a weak gurgling in his stomach. Sighing, he snatched up a piece of bread from the box and munched on it, ignoring Ryouken's increasing stares.

"If you worry," he said around the food in his mouth, "you're going to get white hairs."

"Is this more of Kusanagi's work?" Ryouken asked instead. "Are you spying on SOL?" A slow smile spread over Ryouken's lips, the sign of a predator relishing in its prey. "Not that I think you should be focusing on that when you've been in that same spot all day, but if you were spying, I'd love for you to tell me the details—in bed."

"I thought I was supposed to go to sleep."

"You will," Ryouken said. A finger fixed under his chin, pulling him towards the bedroom. Yuusaku left his coffee on the counter and followed Ryouken into the bedroom, lit only by the muted moonlight trickling through the window. In the near-darkness, he couldn't see the bed, but his body found comfort in whatever he lied upon, and he tucked his head either into the pillow or the warm curve of Ryouken's arm. The same long, spindly fingers slipped into his hair, settling along his brow.

"You're working too hard."

"Hm."

"I'm being serious."

"Hypocritical too," he mumbled around a yawn. The light seemed to be fading from the room, even though both of them were in bed and Ryouken wouldn't have been able to reach the curtains. It was getting warmer too, and somehow he felt like he should nestle closer rather than pull away.

"You know what our elders say: 'Technology is bad for your health.'"

He snorted into the sheets. Since when had Ryouken even cared about what paranoid seniors thought?

"What's your prognosis then,  _ Dr. Ryouken?" _

A deep rumble shook between them. Ryouken's arms tightened around his chest and shoulders, drawing him closer. The blankets tucked under his chin, and Yuusaku wondered just how comfier he could get. He had been awake at the computer, focused and attentive, but now his mind was hazier than a foggy morning and he could hardly keep his eyes awake much less focused on the fuzzy darkness. Ryouken's hands kept stroking him—his face, his shoulders; not his neck, not over his eyes, nowhere that would startle him—and guiding him towards sleep. Odd considering at the same time he was trying to have a serious conversation.

"You need a break."

"Does this count?"

"A true break—and so do I, for that matter. A break for the both of us, away from computers and technology and hacking and dumb updates and malfunctions."

"The last time we took a break, it wasn't very relaxing."

"That's because we took a break  _ within Link Vrains,  _ and never again should we trust our emotional well-being to a virtual game with the worst server update malfunctions in the history of online gaming."

He had to chuckle at that. The Link Vrains-mas winter event had been an absolute bust, starting with faulty servers and glitchy systems and ending in SOL going after their personal identities for the sake of some big scoop and publicity stunt. It had been a bonding experience, if one could even call it that, but it wasn't a relaxing winter event. If Ryouken wanted them to relax, what he meant was 'unplug,' as the old folks would say.

"Can you even go a day without internet?" he said around another yawn. He tilted his gaze up, ready to see the flicker of embarrassment on Ryouken's face. Between the two of them, if they lost internet, it was Ryouken pacing around the house and watching the Twitter feeds for updates. 

Ryouken tapped him on the nose. "Can you?"

"I don't think it's technology that's stressing me out. It's ..." Life. Feelings of unaccomplishment. Feeling lost and unsure and unsuccessful amidst a society that always looked found, sure, and successful. Feeling like everyone was one step ahead in life.

"Still, a holiday would do you—us—good. We haven't had one in a while too."

True. The last time they'd done anything couple-y was back in winter for Link Vrains-mas, and since then they'd both been bogged down by work and study and responsibility. Sure, they'd spent evenings together and gone out once or twice, but they hadn't really gone out-out, hadn't really spent time together, and certainly hadn't had a holiday. Time had just passed too fast for either of them to consider it. Now it was fall, the off-season for most holiday destinations.

"Not somewhere cold," he said.

"Didn't even consider it."

"Or warm."

"Never even crossed my mind."

"Or crowded."

"Quite the long list of specifications."

He swung his legs over, pinning Ryouken to the bed. With their bodies barely an inch apart, he felt Ryouken's inhale, and a slow smile spread over his face when the exhale came much shakier.

"You suggested the holiday."

"I did," Ryouken said, words rumbling in his throat. "And better yet, I found us the perfect holiday."

"You booked it already?"

Ryouken's hand slid out from underneath them, hovering in front of their faces. He flicked his wrist to open up the holographic internet on his duel disk—sleek and silver, with the latest customisable interface. It would have been the top-of-the-line model except Ryouken had taken the AI feature out at once, stating that people who rely on a computer's processing to solve their every problem are going to be the downfall in society. He clicked open his inbox and selected one of the recent e-mails from a new contact. Inside was a long, detailed e-mail from them detailing a venue of some kind, along with an information package, guides and brochures, and coupons. His eyes scanned over what he could gather from the e-mail, but Ryouken snapped open another e-mail and typed out:  _ We'll take the room. _

"Now we've booked it."

Yuusaku wriggled his hand out from underneath and clicked on the e-mail attachment. Rather than take him to a hyperlink, it opened to a pdf brochure of a small, quaint, seaside village, the likes game developers would design as one's primary starting point. The village was made up of various small, stone buildings, some with thatched roofs and others with proper slate to protect them from the strong winds and rains. For a town, it was tiny, all family-run shops, a small inn, and a library. There were no large attractions, no yearly festivals or venues that would attract a large crowd, and in fact the brochure didn't look to be advertising tourists, but instead seemed like the sort of pamphlet made by a child for a school project.

Made by Takeru, age 10.

Yep, a child's school project.

"How'd you even find this place?" he asked.

"Spectre suggested it. He likes the nature in the area, and he said of all the places you can go to disconnect, this is the least tourist-trap-y option."

"Hm," was all he could say. Spectre was right though—this place wouldn't be on anyone's get-away retreat. Even without the brochure advertising the town's attraction, he could see for himself that there wasn't even that  _ much  _ to advertise: some little shops that might have homemade wares that were all the rave today, and some kitschy, also homemade, belongings that were all the rave for Kusanagi. With small towns came friendly people, and that might have attracted certain crowds of long-time visitors who would eventually settle down in the area, but nowhere in the brochure was there any indication that there was anything to  _ do. _

"Does it meet your specifications?"

"I think you'll be more bored than relaxed," Yuusaku said. He rolled to the side and yanked the blankets up over his head. "But sure. When do we go?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

But if Ryouken said anything more, Yuusaku didn't hear it. As soon as the warmth under the blanket settled like a second layer over his skin, he passed out with thoughts of ocean waves and rustling winds on his wind. He dreamt of silent seas and winding meadows, places that he hadn't even seen advertised on the brochure. Deep in his mind he remembered running through tall, grassy fields and playing. He hadn't gone out since then—not freely, not without a single care in his mind.

When he awoke, the bed was still warm, but an empty space lie next to him. He could hear Ryouken busying himself in the kitchen, and he padded out of the bedroom rubbing his eyes. He felt even more tired for some reason, and as he gazed out the window at the brewing sunrise, realisation dawned on him.

"Can you even call it sleep if you only napped for a couple hours?" Ryouken said with a sigh, pressing a mug into his chilled hands. The warmth lulled him in like a lullaby, but the caffeine woke him up with a jolt. He sipped deeply and peered over the rim of the mug, to where Ryouken stood nursing his own cup. For someone who was awake with him last night, he looked too fresh and rejuvenated, and dressed like he was going to an office meeting and opposed to a … holiday.

Standing at the door were two small suitcases, one red and one blue, that hadn't been there last night when he was stumbling around half-asleep. On the counter was a small lunch kit too, and with its lid open Yuusaku could see an assortment of small snacks: slices of cheese and crackers; two small yogurts; and a package of sandwiches cut into squares.

He hadn't seen a packed lunch since elementary school.

"You were serious," he mumbled around his next sip.

"When am I not?" Ryouken said, sweeping past him to zip up the lunch kit and attach it to one of the handles on the suitcase. He lay their jackets atop too. "The bus comes in twenty minutes at the bottom of the hill."

Sighing, Yuusaku headed back into the bedroom. Ryouken had laid out an outfit on the bed for him, looking a bit too sharp for an attire meant for a holiday. Nonetheless, he slipped on the dress shirt and slacks, letting them both hang loose, and uncuffing the pants so that they properly swept over his feet. He wouldn't be some scandalous man bearing ankles.

At the doorway, Ryouken met him with a travel mug filled with his forgotten coffee and a long scarf to wrap round his neck. Yuusaku lifted his chin to let him tie it up, but as he held his head back, he muttered, "You're not usually this doting."

"Hm? I just don't want to be late for the bus."

"Because then we'll be late?"

"Because there's only a bus every four hours that heads into the town."

Ah. One of those towns with nonexistent public transport. The more he heard of the town, the more readily he wanted to sink into cynicism. He hated busy cities. He hated loud places and people, and most cities fell under tourist traps catered to those loud people. But at the same time, he didn't enjoy places with one road in and out and a five mile walk to the nearest populated city, and the more he learnt of their new holiday retreat, the more he suspected Ryouken was taking him to such a place.

They slipped out the door, suitcases in tow, into a frigid, fall day. Wind nipped at his exposed skin. Without peaceful snow to make a picturesque landscape, the sky just looked dull and grey. He sunk deeper into his jacket and pulled his scarf up over his nose. Next to him, Ryouken gave a tense shiver. 

They descended down the boardwalk, a straight-fire road down the mountain. Ryouken's mountaintop villa was only wonderful in theory; the hike up and down the driveway could tire even an Olympic athlete. They marched side by side, suitcases threatening to pull them down the hill, and the wind at their backs making the situation all the more likely. They huddled underneath the bus shelter, hoods up and cinched under their chin, for the bus that would take them to the train that would then take them out to the countryside where another bus would pick them up and drive them into the town.

On the bus, Ryouken loaded up the map for them. He dragged his finger from the bright, glowing dot of Den City and up the northern coast to where a pin had been dropped in what looked like the middle of nowhere. The path they would be taking was the most roundabout way to go north—they couldn't cut through the mountains or empty fields, and the further north one went up in Japan, the fewer public routes there were to travel. A drive that should have taken no more than a couple hours was going to take them most of the day.

Yuusaku yanked his hood forward and leant against Ryouken's shoulder, nursing his travel mug in his chilled hands.

"So what does Spectre do in this town?"

"He hangs out in the forest, reconnecting with nature as those health bloggers are apt to say." A pause. "Y'know, talking to trees."

"And that's what we'll be doing to relax?"

Ryouken flicked on his duel disk and loaded the brochure once more. "There's plenty to explore in the city, at least. Lots of open land, walks on the beach. We could even spend an afternoon checking on the shops. And hey, worst comes to worst, we spend an afternoon watching DuelTube videos."

"Thought we were supposed to disconnect?"

"Not entirely. I still have to keep in touch with some clients—"

"You mean wreck the new patch going live in Link Vrains tomorrow at four am?"

Ryouken's smile was obvious. "It keeps Zaizen on his toes."

"Gives him grey hair too." He shuffled up to peer out the window as the bus turned into the station. Pulled a face for extra measure. The station was filled with hundreds of people milling around in peacoats and hats, umbrellas in hand and waiting for the impending storm. At least the bus wasn't crammed, but as they filed into the mass, Yuusaku felt his mood begin to sour. His hand found Ryouken's, and together they slipped through the crowd and towards the platform.

He'd been on the train many times before, but typically if he was travelling for any reason they'd head south; Den City was as high as anyone typically went up the country, and so the platform they found themselves on was as barren as a desert tundra. All the masses had headed onto major routes down south. Yuusaku gazed round for anyone hiding in the shadows, but they were the only standing together.

"Quiet at last," he said under his breath.

Ryouken's chest rumbled with a chuckle.

The train that pulled into the station was small and stocky, meant for heavy travelling but not for carrying hundreds of tourists. It was an older model too judging by the faded, lumpy seats and the plain decorations. Meager additions made the train look less abandoned, such as the cute posters highlighting the great north, but it still felt rather lackluster compared to the bright infographics that would be pasted on any rail-line heading south.

They took their seats. Yuusaku kicked his feet up onto the other seat and reclined in his spot; Ryouken hardly relaxed, keeping himself pencil-straight with his feet on the floor. He flipped through apps on his duel disk, cycling through them twice.

"Disconnecting?"

"I have work."

"So did I."

Ryouken scrolled through his apps a third time. Then a fourth time. Then—

"Shit."

Yuusaku blinked. He'd dozed off for a moment, but not long enough that much could have happened. "Hm?"

"Lost internet."

He wanted to laugh.

Ryouken flicked off his duel disk, and his near-perfect posture sunk a bit. One of his sharp canines pierced his lip, and his eyes, ever blue and shining, bore holes into the seats ahead of them. Then he clicked his teeth together and said, "The first thing we should do when we check in is have a nap."

"Tired?"

"I can't sleep on a moving train."

Yuusaku couldn't sleep in public, and he found himself agreeing with Ryouken. A nap would be heavenly. New places always set his mind on edge, and he typically found himself fretting about sleeping in a different bed in a different room—but this would be a room in an inn in a city of maybe one hundred people, so there'd be no fears of hearing strangers in another room or hallway, or feeling like he had none of the privacy he valued at Ryouken's house.

The more he thought about it, the more relaxing the vacation seemed.

So he tucked himself back into the seat and let the train lull him to peace. He wouldn't sleep, but the trip lasted long enough that he felt like he was in limbo for what felt like hours, until the train chugged to a squeaky stop.

"This is us," Ryouken said.

They gathered their belongings and carried them off the train. After having sat in the bumpy carriage for what felt like days with the windows dimmed, the first sight of sunlight, as weak as it was, had him covering his eyes. Slowly, his gaze adjusted to the dim sky.

They were in the middle of nowhere. They  _ had  _ to be. The only sight surrounding them was the platform they stood upon, nothing more than a raised concrete slab cutting off the wooden train tracks. The tracks led out to the horizon where not even a building cut through the emptiness. No trees, no mountains—how? Den City was built near a mountain—and no people. Behind them, the train chugged away, back down the dry path towards civilisation. Yuusaku and Ryouken remained standing on the platform, wind biting their ears.

"Where's the road?" he then asked.

"There ... I suppose," Ryouken said, tilting his head down to the beaten dirt path snaking off from the stairs and leading out into the middle of nowhere. If Yuusaku squinted his eyes, he could see a path. Sort of. If any car or bus traveled down it, it would be a bumpy ride.

_ And the bus?  _ he wanted to say, but as flat as the world was, if there was a bus coming, they'd see it a mile away. There wasn't even a bus stop nearby, or what Yuusaku supposed would count as one.

No bus. No people. No map. No internet connection.

"Didn't you say it was a seaside town?" Yuusaku said. In the distance, he could see the barest sliver of blue—sea-blue, not sky-blue, and the ocean had never looked so inviting.

"Good work," Ryouken said. They headed down the stairs and onto the dirt path. Considering the winding train ride they took, the dirt path was surprisingly straightforward and heading right towards the coast. However, as they trekked in their nice clothing, Yuusaku found that the path was much longer than he once thought. Dirt dusted his dress shoes and the hems of his pants. Chill nipped at his face and fingers. The suitcase he towed behind him shouldn't have had much more than the clothing and toiletries they'd need for the holiday, and yet it felt like he was towing a boulder behind him.

He hoped they'd see the bus along the way. Not a single dirt path intersected the route out to the coast, and though he kept his eyes peeled on the horizon for any sight of vehicles, nog one crossed their path. Soon though, the horizon bumped with the tops of several small buildings. Civilisation had never looked so welcoming. He picked up the pace, Ryouken hot on his heels. He only stopped when they reached the edge of the town and he could see all of it.

All that could even be called a town, as barren as it was. The little shops and houses looked smaller than in the brochure, and everything had a rougher edge to it. There was a cafe and a cottage; the third, largest building was the library, situated in the centre of the town. The road branched out in the middle: one side led to the cafe, and the other side to an inn. Not a single bus in sight—not even a vehicle either, Yuusaku saw.

"This must be it."

It in all its dusty, weary glory.

They marched through the town and down the path to the inn. A building larger than the shops and houses but smaller than the library, it looked like the newest installment to the town. The white stone walls glowed in the little sunlight creeping through the clouds, and the brown door felt sturdy as he pushed it open. Inside, the inn was much smaller: a cosy lobby greeted them, and a narrow staircase headed upstairs.

"Oh hello!" A woman popped her head out from around the corner. Young and cheery, she was still soft-spoken as she stepped forward and pulled out a book from within a cupboard. "Hello, hello—you staying here?"

Ryouken cleared his throat with a light cough. "Yes. A reservation under Kougami."

The woman pulled out a pad of paper and squinted. "Kou ... gami. Yes, yes, there you are. Come along." She extracted their key from the desk and then led them up the stairs. The second floor was even cosier than the first, comprised of a single hallway no wider than their suitcases with only two doors. They entered the left room, filing into the space.

Small. A bed was squished against the wall, and a small set of drawers and a desk were pushed against the opposite wall, with just enough room to walk between the bed and the other furniture and get to the door. The best feature of the room was the balcony, wrought-iron and overlooking the town; from just the second floor, he could see over the top of every building, even the library, and out to the dark sea. Unlike Stardust Road, that even on the dreariest of days was alight with stars, this section of the sea seemed to swallow what little light escaped the clouds.

"Here's your key," the woman said. "If you need anything, just ask. Breakfast will at the cafe for you—just say Miyu sent you."

"Thank you," Ryouken said, pocketing the key.

With a bow, the innkeeper left the room.

Yuusaku flopped down onto the bed. There was an age to the room, and while not dusty, he felt like no one had been in this inn in a long time. He waited for Ryouken to lie down next to him, but after a moment, Yuusaku raised his head with a frown.

"No electricity."

Ryouken snorted. "Pardon?"

"There's no lights in this room."

The room wasn't old or dim—it was dark, and without any light streaming through the window, the room was enveloped in mild darkness. On the bedside table were two candelabras that he'd thought were for aesthetic, but were ... functional. Necessary to add light to their room else they sit in darkness.

Yuusaku glanced to Ryouken. "Did the brochure say anything about electricity?"

"It's not like that's a highlight."

"Exactly. How come this inn has no lights?" He lurched off the bed and peered out the window. No electricity or telephone poles. He would have never looked for them—they were just around in Den City, no need to draw attention to them—but it made sense as to why this place felt so ... empty. He hadn't even realised the inn itself had no lighting; all those warm colours were from the lamps.

Sighing, Yuusaku felt himself flop down on the bed, but a strong hand caught him before he could fall once more.

"You're not planning on sleeping this vacation away?" Ryouken said.

"I thought you'd like me to sleep," he said, pulling himself up onto his feet. "Where do you suppose we go?"

"Check around town first and grab a bite to eat. Maybe some local can give us tips on what exactly to do here."

Yuusaku chucked deep in his throat as he followed Ryouken out the door. "I thought you knew what we were going to do on this trip."

"I didn't think this place would be so ..."

"Disconnected?" He could hardly keep the humour out of his voice.

"Boring."

He couldn't argue with that. Ryouken hadn't pitched the holiday idea too well, but when he'd showed him the brochure, he expected something ... more. Something meaningful and peaceful, but not in a 'there's-nothing-to-do' sort of way. As he gazed around the town, not a single fun activity rose in his mind. The library looked mildly interesting, and a couple people sat in front of the building on stone benches. A couple other villagers milled down the street towards the cafe, which looked to be the most popular part of the town. Past the two rows of houses, the civilisation disappeared just before the start of the beach.

"A walk."

"Let's go check the cafe."

A blink.

"We'll go for a walk afterwards," Ryouken said, "but at least let's get out bearings straight on where we are and what exactly we can do."

As much as Yuusaku loathed small talk, especially when, if there was internet, he could have just searched on a map if the beach stretched as far as he wanted to walk. But he followed Ryouken down the dirt road, ending up at the cosy cafe at the end of the path. It looked like the sort of family-run business that had been passed down for generations, and while minor touch-ups were noticeable to make the shop well-maintained, it still breathed its ages as they climbed the creaky steps and swung the wooden door open.

Inside, the area was lit with bright lamps, some even made with red glass to give the room an extra-warm glow. Four little tables occupied the majority of the space: two at the back towards a window overlooking the empty landscape; and two closer to the front and nestled by a large, stone fireplace that gave off a thick heat. Yuusaku felt himself drawing closer to the fireplace; without central heating, the strong winds rolled right through the town with a frosty nip.

Just as he got his bearings on the quaint shop, from somewhere in the cafe popped out a man, perhaps as young as him, with a mess of red and white hair. Thick, green glasses framed his eyes, and when he smiled, dimples appeared in the corners of his pink cheeks.

"Greetings! You must be new here."

Ryouken pursed his lips together. "As we are—Miyu—"

The server shuffled his feet together, shoulders inching up towards his ears. "Sent you, of course. You can take any seat you'd like—the evening rush is over, so it's a bit quieter now."

Yuusaku glanced around. He hadn't realised how late they'd gotten in, and if everyone had filed out, then ... "When do you close?"

"Ah, well, this place doesn't really ... close. People just stop coming by a certain point, and then that's how we know it's the end of the day. But—" He raised a hand quickly before Yuusaku could turn on his heel. "You're not overstaying, so please, take a seat anywhere and I'll come take your order."

It seemed rude to leave after the server had so earnestly suggested they stay, so Yuusaku slipped into the closest seat by the fireplace and warmed his hands near the white-hot embers. Ryouken reclined across from him, long legs stretched out to the side of the old, scratched table. Everything in the cafe seemed to have an ancient presence to it, and yet nothing came in a pair: all the tables and chairs were mismatched, and even the various paintings hung in odd frames. When the server came round with two glasses for him, Yuusaku noted that they too were different.

"So," the server said as he handed Yuusaku his glass of water, "if you're not from here, where're you from?"

"Den City."

"Ah, you've travelled far."

Ryouken raised the glass to his lips. "You know the area?"

"Haven't been, but there're some maps in the library, and I think there's a train that runs up the island."

"And a bus?" Ryouken said.

The server chuckled, swinging his tray behind him. "Nah, that hasn't run in ages."

Yuusaku snickered into his drink.

"But anyways, what brings you out here?"

"Holidays," Ryouken said. A foot bumped into Yuusaku's own.

"Relaxing."

The server looked like he was about to respond, and something about the furrow of his brow and the tight press of his lips had Yuusaku leaning closer. But then from some dark corner of the house came a thump, and then a voice, just as warm and bright as the rest of the cafe, said, "Takeru, guests?"

"Travellers," Takeru said, swinging around from where he'd perched on the arm of one of the tall chairs.

The woman welcomed them, but Yuusaku didn't see her until a moment later when she popped out from whatever dark corner of the cafe she'd been in. Like Takeru, she was young and spirited, and her dark blue hair reminded him of the churning waves down by the beach. She patted the apron tied around her waist, removing a pen and notepad from with the folds.

"He didn't take your orders yet, did he?" she said, and just like him, her cheeks dimpled.

"I was about to, Kiku ..."

"What can I get for you today?"

Both he and Ryouken glanced down at their empty hands and near-empty table. No menu. No matter, for just as smoothly Ryouken cut in. "We're just here to get some information actually—things to do while we're here."

If Kiku's tittling laughter didn't send off bells in his ears, then Takeru telling her, "They're here on ... holidays" did the trick. Kiku folded her notepad and pen back into her apron and twisted her fingers together.

"Holidays?"

"Away from the city."

"Well ..." She rolled the word around on her tongue, brown eyes flicking from side to side. "My favourite place to go is the seashore, right down by the docks. You can walk as far as you'd like down the beach, but if you walk to the ... left, I think, then you'll see some neat rock carvings, and you're more likely to find anemones and starfish on those rocks. If you walk down to the right, then you could, potentially, wander all the way down the coast, but that would take days.

"Or the library," she said, curling onto the seat Takeru was leaning against. Just like him, she made herself cosy, and Yuusaku began to wonder if this sort of calm, lackadaisical attitude was shared by every member of the town.

"The library has some new books," Takeru said with a firm nod. "And since you're from the big city, you'll like it there: it has lights."

"Hm?"

Takeru turned to Ryouken, eyes sparkling. "Lights, hanging from the ceiling and connected to electric wires that travel deep underground."

Yuusaku felt his soul slowly slipping from his body. The only building in this entire town with electricity was the library. Takeru and Kiku probably had no clue  _ how  _ the library even got electricity, and he half-expected him to begin describing how the ground-snake powers the city using magic or witchcraft.

"And computers?" Ryouken asked. "Does the library have those?"

"Not. At. All."

Takeru's bluntness shocked the two of them, and it even seemed to surprise him too. He gave a short cough and smiled, hiding his lips behind a raised hand. "Sorry, but ... no. There's nothing like that here."

Like that? Takeru had acted like there was  _ poison  _ in the city, not a couple telephone poles and an electricity box to give the town a little modernisation. But Kiku looked stunned by their words too, twisting her hands together.

"It was only last year when the workers came with the electric wire for the library, and even then, it's not like we  _ needed  _ lights hanging over our heads; we've got plenty of lamps. But there's none of that magic in this town." Her eyes narrowed at them. "If you're travellers though, have you perhaps brought it with you?"

His hand slipped to his duel disk. He hadn't worn it, not when Ryouken had claimed it oh-so-important for them to disconnect; but he'd brought it along regardless. Ryouken's duel disk, however, was clamped onto his wrist, and though both servers must have seen it when they entered, only now did they seem to realise just what he was wearing. They sunk back into their chairs, eyes as wide as tea saucers.

"Is it—is it listening to us?" Takeru asked, slowly pointing a shaking finger at the duel disk.

Ryouken raised it for them to see. "No, and there's no internet here eith—"

"Don't—don't raise it, j-just put it back." Kiku's bottom lip wobbled, and she appeared as white as a ghost.

"I'll turn it off," Ryouken said, clicking a button on the side. However, Takeru and Kiku only became more agitated, leaping off their seats.

"Just leave it, it's fine, i-if it's not doing anything then I'm sure it—it won't." Shakily, she forced a smile. "We just don't have a lot of that around here."

"I noticed," Ryouken said, slipping his arm back to the side. Yuusaku pushed his on duel disk, compacted into a small, flat disk no bigger than a wallet, deeper into his pocket. It would only make matters worse if they saw he had one too.

It took them both a moment longer to catch their breaths, but their gazes kept flickering to Ryouken's side, as if waiting for the device to spontaneously combust and drown them all in flames.

"How come," Yuusaku found himself asking, "there are no computers here?"

"No technology," Takeru said through his teeth. "It's just ... Don't you find it a little disturbing to have something control you?"

"Control?"

"The technology ... it goes into your mind." Kiku tapped a hand to her finger. "I knew a girl in a town down south. one that just recently got this device you stick in your ear. And—and it talks to you. Plays tunes for you."

"Headphones."

"And you could break your ears just by having them inside. Or—or someone could be spying on you. I've heard those big companies track your movements and spy on you, and we don't need any of that here, no siree. Your tech shouldn't work out here, unless ..." She brought a shaking hand to her lips, swallowing thickly. "Can they stalk you even when you turn it off?"

"No one's monitoring us," Ryouken said with a huff.

"They do though," Takeru said, voice barely above a whisper. "They're always watching."

"And all they'll see is a little dot on their screen saying, 'Someone is here.' In the grand scheme of things, it's not all that interesting."

Neither Kiku nor Takeru looked convinced though, only more horrified at the thought that that information was going somewhere, and that in some office in Den City there was a tracker saying that someone was in their town.

"Well ... just keep that sort of stuff hidden, all right?" Kiku eventually said. She uncurled herself from the chair, smoothing down her skirts and aprons. "Folks round here aren't used to seeing that sort of stuff, but by all means do we know what sort of plagues it can bring—and we've already got enough to worry about without someone flashing a bomb in the city centre." With her fists clenched at her sides, she forced a smile. "Take your time here tonight though, and let us know if we can get you refills on your drinks. Takeru?"

"Coming.

With polite, albeit forced, nods, the two of them slipped away towards the shadows. Briefly, Yuusaku saw a door open that he assumed led to the kitchen or their private quarters.

Ryouken huffed around his drink. "Cheery place."

"You picked it."

"They're misinformed."

"Scared."

"Worrying about something that can't even hurt them, at least not how they think."

He hummed under his breath. It was quite a shock to know that megalo-corporations were spying on the world through technology and collecting all manner of data concerning their whereabouts, interests, and histories. But in the grand scheme of things, there was little to worry about that information returning to haunt him. Here though, it sounded like everyone thought of technology as the lurking boogeyman preying on innocent villagers.

He finished the rest of his drink quickly, and then he and Ryouken slipped back out into the night. In the late evening, not a single villager wandered the streets; just as Takeru had said, nothing truly closed so much as people retired for the night. Outside, they were the only two around.

Slowly, he tilted his head back. Thousands of stars danced in the dark, dreamy air, and yet, when he gazed out at the coastline, not a single star had fallen into the dark waters. Here though, without the bright city lights, the sky was unpolluted, and if he squinted, he could spot larger dots, perhaps even planets.

An arm slunk around his shoulders, tugging him towards the inn.

Maybe Ryouken was right: they needed to disconnect after all, in a town terrified of technology.


	2. Chapter 2

They left the inn the next morning tech-free, wrists bare of all duel disks and not a single wire hanging from their pockets. It felt silly at first, but once they settled down at the cafe and Kiku commented, "Good to see you not hooked up like some robot," Yuusaku considered himself saved from witnessing another panic from those two.

Even at the mid-morning hours, the cafe was silent, not a villager in sight. Come to think of it, Yuusaku hadn’t seen many houses on the walk from the inn to the cafe. But even more surprising was the cafe’s menu—or, namely, the lack of one. With no guide, Yuusaku ordered just a single black coffee and several squares of fresh toast.

Ryouken stared at him over his own plate. "They might serve hash browns."

"It's fine." When he had ordered, Takeru had simply asked him, "Well, what do you like to eat?" and he hadn't known what to say beyond toast—and so toast appeared for him, generously buttered and with complimentary pots of jam and honey.

After breakfast, they trekked out of town and towards the water, having not been able to do so the previous night. While dry, the coast was colder than he expected, and waves slammed onto the rocky banks. Large pieces of driftwood had rolled in from the lumber mills, creating a bumpy, naturalistic landscape. Best of all, not a single sound drifted from the village down to the shore. When he closed his eyes, he heard only the crash and drizzle of the waves coming in and out.

Ryouken shoved his hands into his pockets. "That woman said yesterday to go left for the attractions, correct?"

"Unless we want to go for an aimless walk."

Yet as far as he could see, the coast stretched endlessly into either direction. They'd need to walk far before they came across anything worth stopping to admire. Yuusaku tucked his hands into his sleeves and headed left. His arm and pocket felt empty without the duel disk, and more than once a particular sight—the catch of the sun on the water; the wet, dappled rocks beneath his sneakered feet—caught his eye and he longed to capture a photo.

Ryouken seemed to have similar thoughts as he pursed his lips.

"Didn't know there were places up here so ... conservative."

"I thought there were just gated communities."

A smirk formed on his pale lips. "Well, we are rather 'gated' out here."

"And didn't she say last year that they just got electricity?"

"Mandatory perhaps?"

As far as federal regulations went, no place  _ needed  _ electricity—but without it, questions arose in his head. How did they get oil or gas? How did they keep warm? How did their government and security function without computers and systems to communicate with larger cities?

"Do you think anyone knows people live up here?" he asked Ryouken.

"I'd suppose so. The government likes to keep tabs on people, so I doubt they could lose twenty or so of them to this barren land."

"So then someone must come to this city ..." A liaison between the villagers and the main city. After all, the train travelled part of the way up here, and it wasn't like the villagers  _ didn't  _ know about technology, more that they were just plain afraid of it. A severe form of technophobia shared by everyone in the town.

"That explains why no one comes here then ... no one but Spectre anyways." Ryouken's fingers itched at his sides, and he muttered, "Damn."

"Missing it again?"

"I wanted to check the internet—see if you can even get a signal all the way out here."

"I thought we were supposed to disconnect," Yuusaku said, taking care to drip his words with unbridled, teasing joy.

_ "You  _ were supposed to disconnect. And are you feeling relaxed?"

"Plenty." He snaked his fingers between Ryouken's, cold palms pressing together. He leaned close, so not a single gust of wind could pass between their bodies. Ryouken had packed well even without knowing what sort of adventures awaited them, and he was thankful for the thick jacket and scarf that kept him from shivering in just woollen socks. Ryouken looked equally dignified in his thick peacoat and scarf tied with the same grace one would tie a necktie.

Eventually, they meandered far enough down the coast that the landscape took on new twists and turns. The rocks became pebblier as they neared a rocky shelf. Boulders or perhaps the wash of the waves had brushed away little crevices in the stone to create tidal pools, and small aquatic animals had made their homes inside. More importantly, they weren't alone either. A group of kids crouched around one side of the shelf, backs to both Yuusaku and Ryouken, and to the shimmering sea. They had sticks in their hands and wore only sweaters and hats to keep them warm, but none of them seemed cold or frightened being so far out from the town. In fact, they all seemed rather interested in what they were crouched around—and frightened once they realised they were no longer alone.

In an act of pure guiltiness, they swung around and clamped their hands behind their backs.

"We weren't doing anything."

Yuusaku nearly choked on a laugh. Obviously they were doing something they weren't supposed to, but as the situation dawned on the children, their guilty faces relaxed.

"Who're you ...?" one of the kids asked. He looked like the leader, standing with his arms crossed in front of him.

"They're  _ obviously  _ time travellers," the other kid said with a shrug. "And you're too late—we already hid it."

"We did? Don't you have it—"

"Don't tell them where it is!"

Ryouken looked as shocked as Yuusaku felt, but between the two of them, Yuusaku knew he was better at dealing with younger children. He cut in before they could get too rowdy, saying, "Look, whatever you're doing, don't ... endanger yourselves. We're just passing by."

The kids all seemed to get this feeling, nodding their heads up and down. But just as they stepped forward, the second kid, the one with a devilish smirk on his face, spoke up: "I'll tell you what I have behind my back if you give me a hundred yen."

Yuusaku heaved a sigh. "That's fine, I don't need to know—"

"But it's something really,  _ really  _ special."

"I'm going to go—"

Another child, a little, short one with dusty brown hair, spoke up: "Ai, we're not supposed to  _ show  _ him, we're going to get in trouble!"

With a growl, Ryouken spun around on his heel. He stalked back until he towered over all five of them, huddled together like little bumps on a log. Even the more adventurous of the group looked frightened by Ryouken, and for good measure: when Ryouken was serious, there was no negotiation.

"Hand it over."

"I-I found it first—"

"Now."

Reluctantly, the child—Ai—passed over the item—to his friend, who fumbled as he caught it. It was clear what the item was though: a little, blue watch with an elastic band. Yuusaku remembered wearing one as a young child: they were popular at his school because of the various characters and designs you could get inside the little, plastic-covered part of the watch or around the wrist strap. However, this one was clearly newer than the analog watch he had growing up—this was a digital watch with a small, holographic panel.

"We didn't mean to find it, sir," the girl said. "And we were going to put it back after we were done."

_ "You  _ were," Ai said, "but that's  _ mine,  _ mister, and I want it back."

Ryouken held the small watch between his fingers. He heaved one last sigh through his teeth and then deposited it back into the child's hand.

"At least it wasn't a weapon," Yuusaku heard Ryouken mutter.

"Close enough," he said under his breath.

Once the watch had been returned to them though, the children only looked more horrified.

"You're not going to tell someone, are you?" another child asked. Bits of green hair poked out from under a neon-yellow toque, and he rubbed his pink hands together. "We weren’t doing anything wrong by just finding that."

"You weren't—"

"A-and nothing's going to come for us," the leader of the group said, patting his chest with a hand.

"But what if it's cursed?" one of them said. "What if that's why Lightning ..."

They all looked down at their feet, even guiltier than before. All through their chatter, Yuusaku could only make sense about half of what they were babbling about, and he didn't care much to know about their minor worries. But something in their grim tones and despondent expressions piqued his interest.

"Did someone tell you not to play with technology?"

The leader shook his head. "Because if not, we'll go to sleep ... sleep forever—l-like Lightning."

"Who told you that?"

"Miss Miyu ..."

Yuusaku sighed through his teeth. Asking children for help would only lead to more questions than answers. They weren't going to figure out whether the children were talking about something serious, or if one of the village adults implanted in their minds that technology melts your brain.

"Are you time travellers?" one of the children asked—one of them, he wasn't sure which one among a sea of wind-chapped faces peeking under thin toques.

"Visitors passing by," he said.

"Are you here to fix Lightning?"

"No." A pause. "What happened?"

They looked down at their feet, all but one, the leader. One of the kids hissed, "Flame," but he spoke up.

"He got cursed by a computer," he said simply. "We found one on the beach a few days ago, and none of us touched it but him—he wanted to click it, you see, because it had two little buttons." Flame held out his hands, making a sort of oval shape.  _ Not a computer,  _ Yuusaku realised, but a computer _ mouse.  _ Whoever implanted such a ridiculous story in the children's head had just as much knowledge about computers as they did.

"I don't think he clicked it though," one of the children said.

"He did," Flame said with a nod. "And that's why his brain melted and he's asleep."

A fierce shiver ran down his spine. Had he met any other children talking tall tales, he would have taken Ryouken by the shoulder and pulled him along. This had to have been a farce. But something in the children's words had him frozen on the spot. Something happened to one of the kids—not his brain melting, but something that would force adults to tell children that—and it sparked a protective desire within him.

"Don't touch that then," he said, and for good measure, he took the watch too. "Where'd you find the mouse?"

"The what?"

"The tech—"

"Yuusaku," he heard Ryouken say.

"I just want to check something," he said. "Where?" he then said to the children.

"Over here," the girl said. One of the children grumbled, "Aqua, he's an adult, he's going to get us in trouble," but Aqua led them along the shelf, stopping at a small, raised peak in the rocks. She tucked her hands under the rock and into the water, biting back a shiver. Then she returned with a couple of wet electronics: a blue wire with its copper ends exposed, an analog wristwatch with a battery, and a single airpod-style headphone.

"Sometimes they're on the shore," she said, smiling into her jacket, "and we're not taking them since this doesn't belong to anyone else, so we collect it here and keep it safe. But we didn't think it was going to hurt anyone, and I told him"—she swung around, glaring at Ai—"not to pick up that watch and that we'd get in big trouble like Lightning."

"Where's the mouse?"

"Threw it away," Flame said. "We put it back in the ocean. I promise."

Ai clicked his teeth together, whether from shivering or embarrassment Yuusaku wasn't sure. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

"I won't," Yuusaku said.

Satisfied, they returned back to playing with the watch. He could hear them arguing over whether it would fry their brains out of not, to which half of them seemed genuinely frightened by it, and the others seemed ready to accept the challenge. He waited until he was well out of earshot before turning to Ryouken.

"I wouldn't trust anything a child says," Ryouken said.

"I ... don't."

Ryouken chuckled. "But you're worried about them—a saviour, Yuusaku. I don't think you need to be a hero for a bunch of kids getting brainwashed over the invasion of technology."

At the end of the beach, or as far as they wanted to walk without getting their feet wet, were the rocks Kiku had told them about: petroglyphs that had survived for thousands of years. The rocky shelf held even more tide pools of varying sizes and contents. From the tide were various washed-up items: seaweed and other algae, but also a variety of just plain trash. Judging from the small collection the kids had discovered, they must have scavenged out here and hid it elsewhere on the beach.

By the time they walked back, the children had since cleared off. Their stomachs rumbled, and over their heads, he caught sight of the sun dipping low towards the other side.

"Must be late afternoon," Ryouken said, rubbing at his bare wrists. "Probably isn't even a clock in this town."

Yuusaku snorted. "There're wooden clocks in the cafe."

"Shall we go back and see?"

As much as he wanted to flop back down on the bed and sleep the evening away, he followed Ryouken back towards the cafe. Once again, it was empty and quiet, and the only people in the cafe were the servers, sitting at one of the tables playing a card game together. Kiku and Takeru looked up as they approached, and Takeru raised a hand.

"See any tourist-y sites?" he teased.

Kiku pressed a hand to her cheek. "You look colder than ice too—I'll get you something warm to drink." She bustled off and around them before either of them could speak up. Takeru motioned to the table in front of him.

"Take a seat?"

Yuusaku sunk down into the old, patched armchair, Ryouken at his side. He expected the cards to be dealt once more and for Takeru to sweep them both into a match, but instead he folded his hands under his chin and asked, "So where did you two end up today?"

"The beach," Ryouken said. "The suggestion was helpful."

"Kiku's favourite place—loves the waves crashing along the shore. You can find treasures out there too, actually—shells, barnacles. Stuff even floats in from other cities, so sometimes you'll see jewelry out there. But ... but lately, I'd be wary of what you find out there, as some ... strange stuff has been showing up."

"Like wires?" Ryouken said.

Takeru's entire composition paled to the colour of milk. "Did you find ..."

"If wires are wet, they're not going to harm you. That's  _ not  _ how technology works, and wires aren't even tech, it's electricity, and if it's not plugged into a socket, it won't have a charge."

"Sorry," Kiku said, brushing by them once more with their drinks. "But lately there's been an ... incident."

"It was an accident," Takeru said, breathing out through his nose, "but ... there was something on the beach that shouldn't have been there, and one of the kids touched it. He shouldn't have, and he probably knew it, but you know how kids are ... curious and all that."

"So we've been told," Yuusaku said.

"Were they out there again?"

"... no," Yuusaku said. He wasn't about to rat the children out, not that he cared about their well-being, but Takeru's tone sounded far too grim. "We went out exploring ourselves and saw the trash."

"It washes in, you see," Kiku said, once more settling down next to them. Ryouken raised an eyebrow, and Yuusaku felt his hair rise. He wasn't used to such ... informality, and he wasn't too keen on becoming accustomed to anyone sitting down next to him and striking up a conversation. Yet Kiku made herself comfortable and nursed her own warm drink smelling of citrus and mint. "Lately there have been sightings of dangerous weapons heading onto the shore, and we've forbid the children from going out there after the recent incident."

"Does this happen often?" Ryouken asked.

"Goodness no," Kiku said, upsetting her cup and spilling hot tea on the table. Takeru dabbed at it with his shirt sleeve, but Kiku blundered on: "This is a peaceful town—weapons don't just show up on our shores like foreign objects. But if you see anything suspicious—anything with wires or screens, anything like that—do not touch it under any circumstances. It'll melt your brain."

So it wasn't just Miss Miyu who told them that then. Yuusaku sighed through his teeth.

"We'll be sure to let it be," he said through gritted teeth.

"Good choice," Takeru said. "You've just come at an ... awkward time. But we have it under control."

With how they were acting, Yuusaku truly doubted it, but he let the conversation fizzle away. Kiku and Takeru brought them both plates piled high with sandwiches, and decks of cards and old board games. It had been so long since he played for fun and not in an online tournament, that at first he hardly knew what to do. All the games had unfamiliar names. His hands fumbled with the waxy, albeit slippery, playing cards. Across from him, Ryouken only fared slightly better. He preferred writing notes down than typing them onto a computer, and some forms of technology he considered pointless—but Yuusaku still stifled a laugh when he saw Ryouken dropping cards as he shuffled them.

"Blackjack?"

Then solitaire, then poker, then spit. The afternoon melted away in the corners of their visions as they shuffled, set, and spread cards across the scratched table. Takeru and Kiku came by to refill drinks and comment on their play, but even despite the silence, they hardly intruded. The silence provided its own, homey atmosphere; if Yuusaku closed his eyes, he could even picture himself back home in the living room.

He only realised how late it was when Kiku began lighting the lanterns hanging on the walls and the candles on the tables.

With a groan, he stretched his arms over his head. A satisfying pop echoed behind him.

"Posture," Ryouken said.

"Never heard of it."

They gathered their jackets and headed towards the door. Just before he reached for the handle, the door swung outwards and a pale face stared back at him. It was the first new adult he’d seen all day—and by the looks of it, her arrival was the start of something terrifying.

"He—is Earth here?"

Yuusaku blinked and stepped away, and the woman plowed forward as if he'd never been standing there. Kiku and Takeru rushed out from the hidden kitchen door, wiping their wet hands on their aprons.

"Earth, is he here?" the woman asked. Her shrill voice echoed off the wooden boards, and her eyes flashed from side to side.

"What's wrong?" Kiku said. She took the woman by the shoulders, holding her close and gazing deep into her eyes. "Miyu, what's wrong, what's happened? None of the kids have been here, not all day—"

"He—he's not home," Miyu said, pressing a hand to her mouth. "Just him, just him missing—"

Kiku threw her head over her shoulder. "Takeru, go search for him now. He's probably down by the shore, damn it." She turned back to Miyu and rubbed her shoulders. It only seemed to ease Miyu's shaking frame, but she remained ghostly-white and the hand hanging at her side fretted with the edge of her blouse. "It's going to be all right," Kiku said. "They're kids, they're always getting into mischief."

"B-but Earth ... he wouldn't."

Yuusaku swallowed the pit in his throat. He considered speaking up, but out the open door he heard the rest of the children prattling away. 

"Best to leave it to them," Ryouken whispered into his ear.

He nodded. As awkward as they could be, they slipped out the door and headed back to the inn. They passed Takeru and Kiku rushing out with lanterns and candleholders on their way to find Earth, but no one guided them into the search. When they got to the inn, he couldn't hear even a whisper from outside. The candles were dimmed and dripping wax onto the floor, and in their room the air felt even colder than outdoors. He slipped his jacket off but left his scarf hanging round his neck. Their movements jerky, they settled onto the bed. Through the curtain of his hair, he watched for Ryouken to fall into an easy sleep. Yet it took them hours to find sleep, and when at last he closed his eyes, he could still see Ryouken staring up at the ceiling, brows set in a firm line.

In the morning, the village was silent. No villagers commuting to work—if they even did that. No children dashing off to school—if there even was a school. Not even a gust of wind disturbed the dust settled on the sidewalk. Yuusaku peered through the window, then slipped downstairs to the lobby. The stairs creaked under his feet, and when he arrived at the bottom, he expected to be greeted by someone—Takeru, Kiku, Miyu; anyone with news about what had happened. Yet the main floor was equally barren, and so quiet he could hear the air hissing between his chapped lips.

He slipped out the front door and down the streets. He expected someone to leave their house, but a heavy feeling hung in the air. At the door to the cafe, he hesitated. Takeru had gone out last night, and he'd heard villagers running through the town at all hours of the night ...

The cafe door swung open on its hinges.

"You just standing out there?" Kiku asked, hands on her hips. "Come on in, it's chilly this morning."

She guided him into the cafe and he took at seat at his usual table. At this hour, any normal cafe should have been uncomfortably full with half the down around the tables and digging into grub. But even though he and Ryouken were ever the only guests at a table, it still felt quieter. Takeru was nowhere to be seen, but he heard clinks and clatters coming from wherever the kitchen was.

Kiku looked like she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. Deep bags hung like bruises under her dull eyes, and her hands shook as she served him his black coffee.

"Sorry," she said, forcing a smile onto her lips. "You heard?"

That sentence spoke for itself. His teeth pierced his lip, hard enough to draw blood.

"The kids all said they were down at the beach. I ... I can't blame them for wanting to go down there, and it's not like they understood the risks, but—but if this is like last time, then he'll show up tonight a corpse of himself."

Like Lightning, he assumed.

Takeru appeared around the corner, looking just as worse for wear. His hair, typically ruffled at the tips, was flattened in areas and sticking out in others like an unmanageable case of bedhead. He sported the same grim, exhausted expression, and instead of his jovial "Good morning, Yuusaku!" he only mumbled out a greeting.

Kiku smiled at him tiredly. "Hate to be the bringer of bad news this morning."

"What happened last time?"

Takeru blinked. "Pardon?"

"The last time—you said this has happened before, right?"

"With Lightning." Takeru cupped his shaking hands, but they still quivered like leaves in a blustery wind no matter how tightly he held them together. "It was two days ago, wasn't it, Kiku, since he came back. Yes, two days since he returned, so three days ago he disappeared. Gone. The kids were playing at the beach and they all returned home, and then out of thin air he disappeared. We thought he'd gotten lost at the beach, or had a fight with someone and ran off. But then the kids showed us what they'd found—a computer on a spindly thread that had washed up onto the beach."

_ Computer  _ mouse.

"And when we went to the beach, it—it was everywhere. Like an entire factory of computers had washed up on the shore. And Lightning, we found him the next day at the beach, un ... well, unhurt physically."

"Physically?"

"He hasn't woken up, you see," Kiku said, her voice barely above a whisper. She cleared it with a soft cough and tried again. "It's been two days since we found him and he hasn't woken up, and—and if Earth somehow found that computer again, or even something worse, I don't know—I don't know what will happen to him."

"Comatose," Yuusaku said. No matter how light he kept his voice, both Kiku and Takeru flinched at his words.

"We're going to have to keep everyone indoors if this keeps happening," Takeru said. "If it's coming onto the shores, who knows where else it'll appear?" He turned to Yuusaku, eyes wide. "Computers in the city—can they move?"

"No. Not a computer mouse, and certainly not most computers."

"What about what you brought?" Kiku asked. "Your friend there too, he had something on his wrist."

Yuusaku swallowed. His and Ryouken's duel disks were back at the inn and tucked under their bed, and while he knew they couldn't do a bit of harm, Kiku remembered.

"Whatever hurt that kid—"

"Only came recently, I believe, and I know we cleaned up the beach."

Takeru pressed a hand into her shoulder, massaging the tense joints. "I think you ought to go.”

Fortunately, just at that moment, the door swung open and Ryouken stepped in. Before he could go any further, Yuusaku swept out of his seat and grabbed Ryouken. They needed to leave—now. His grip spoke volumes, and Ryouken followed him out of the cafe, then into the inn. He rummaged through the back of the drawer for his duel disk, folded into his clothing in case the innkeeper came to change the sheets. He tucked it into his pocket and held it in place with a shaking hand.

When he headed back out to the village, he felt the world upon him. The entire town breathed down his neck, and he didn't feel the sweat slicking over his skin until they wandered down to the deserted beach. Fierce gales of wind knocked the water from the sea, dousing the pebbles and rocks with a salty mist. The duel disk felt an extra tonne lighter. He lifted it out of his pocket, holding it like a foreign specimen.

"What's happened?" Ryouken asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"That little kid is missing."

"No," Ryouken said. "What's happened with you?"

"They said it's happened before, and that means it'll happen again."

"Yuusaku—"

"It's not us, Ryouken," he said, spinning on his heel. "But there is something out here going after children and using these people's phobia of technology to mask their crime."

He plucked his duel disk out of his pocket and held it out before him. The screen illuminated, but in the corner was the dim connection: no internet. Not even any service no matter how high he held up the device. Grumbling, he marched further down the beach, eyes settled on the corner of the screen.

"Are you calling the police?"

"Kusanagi. The police won't make it out here, and we'll only upset the villagers if we bring in more strangers. The cafe owners already seemed to think it's us."

"And Kusanagi?"

"Can at least research for us." He groaned as his device only blinked sadly at him. "Damn it, where is the service out here?"

Ahead of him, the beach stretched endlessly to the edge of the sky, and not a single cluster of houses marred the landscape. They were so far away from civilisation who knew if there would be a telephone pole out here. It would take a full day's journey to travel to Den City, and another day back home with research; by that time, another child children could have disappeared, or worse.

As he wandered further, he relayed what Takeru and Kiku had told him to Ryouken—-about Lightning, the child who had gone missing, and the recent discovery of technology on the beach's shores. Ryouken said nothing as he spoke, brows furrowed over his narrowed eyes.

"So if the kid that went missing last night, he should return tonight?"

Yuusaku nodded. Whether that was a hopeful sentiment was unclear to him; if this case was the same as Lightning, he feared for the health of the new victim.

"If you're serious about solving this mystery, then we should see the victims tonight. Figure out just what happened to them since the villagers won't be able to give us a plausible reason with their superstitions."

"I don't know if we'll get to see them ... Takeru and Kiku seemed worried we might be involved, and news travels fast here. The whole village might think we're connected to, and by default perpetrating, these disappearances." A blink in the corner of the screen caught his eye, but it was just his duel disk's depleting battery. The cold wind was draining its strength quicker than normal, and he kept refreshing the settings in the hopes he'd get even a bar of service. Even if it cost him roaming charges.

But an hour later and still no signs of service, Yuusaku grumbled and spun back on his heels.

"We'll go to the library then."

Ryouken blinked. "You think this town will actually have books worth reading? They seem rather narrow-minded here, to the point that I wonder if some of these people are brainwashed."

He had a point, but there was something else he wanted to check. "They must have news records here."

"A newspaper?"

"There's one on the table every morning in the coffee shop, so even if it's just one freelance villager, someone's writing, and I want to see if anything happened before this—anything that would seem odd to us, but perhaps not odd to them. Or that was odd to them too and they just overlooked it."

A shoulder brushed against his and a spark of warmth zapped through his coat. He leaned into the touch, as casual as it was, and Ryouken only remained even with him, not demanding, not pressuring. The air between them rumbled when he spoke. "So much for a relaxing vacation."

"I wasn't going to relax anyway."

"Are we destined to be working even on our days off then?"

He wanted to laugh off Ryouken's words, brush them to the side and pretend this was just a spooky small-town mystery with harmless acts and unharmed victims. But on the empty beach, he thought of the children he saw only yesterday crouched on the stone shelf and toying with lost objects, and his heart snapped like a vice in his chest. Something was wrong here. Something he couldn't just brush away and ignore.


	3. Chapter 3

The library really was the centre of the town. It was the largest building by far, standing like a mountain sprouted from the plains. Made of old, dark stone, it looked like it had been standing far longer than any other building, and as Yuusaku and Ryouken approached, their breath leaked from their parted lips. Something about the sheer grandeur and detail of the building kept Yuusaku's eyes focused on it. He spotted stained glass windows on the higher levels, and sturdy Victorian window panes on the lower levels. Each level was marked by a balcony; on some levels it wrapped the full width of the building, and on other levels it pock-marked the wall with its wrought-iron bars and wooden-planked floor. Surrounding the library was a garden of lush, green grass. Benches were dispersed around the garden, some in the open air and others tucked under ancient Japanese maple trees. With autumn came barren branches, but the rich red, yellow, and orange leaves had yet to decompose on the ground, and they decorated the green grass much like flowers.

On the first day, Yuusaku remembered seeing the village children seated on the benches and browsing volumes in the sunlight. However, today not a single person was in the garden; just like the beach, the village was equally empty.

He pressed on and through the tall, iron doors. They swung inwards to a bright library. With the lack of electricity in the village, he expected a dimly-lit room with a ghostly feeling. Yet despite the ancient air of the library, it was well-cared-for and brightly lit. Large lanterns hung from the tops of each of the bookcases, burning a heavy, wax candle that chased the shadows into the corners of the room. The shelves themselves were made of sturdy, orange wood, and they stretched back as far as he could see. In fact, the library didn't seem to have much free room inside of it: there were a handful of couches at the front, and a desk tucked to his right, but most of the room was filled with the shelves themselves.

"I didn't think they'd even have books," Ryouken muttered.

Yuusaku thought so too. With all the censorship surrounding technology, he expected the village to strike down hard on what the children read—and they had, he realised, as he thumbed through the nearest shelf. Even if he didn't recognise any of the titles, the spines themselves stated their age. Every book in this library had to have been a hundred years old or more, written well before electronics existed. These books were printed on parchment with an old typewriter; he could tell by the dulled, smudgy ink and the particular font.

"It's like they're living in another time period," he said.

They wandered up and down the shelves. Unlike the typical library, there was no Dewey Decimal System, and though Yuusaku had never memorised that system before, nor did he know what it did beyond systematically organise texts by topic, he knew that this library had its own unique organising system. There were fiction and non-fiction texts arranged by author; no sections for children, but by the stickers on the spines it was clear which books were meant for kids. Still, he felt like he and Ryouken were wandering through a maze. Each time he looked at a shelf, a different book caught his eye, and more than once he felt like he'd already passed by a particular title when he saw it again on a different shelf.

"Do you need help?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin, but the unease remained as he found not an adult standing before him, but the girl from yesterday. Her blue hair was curled into two pigtails that hung on either side of her head, and she wore a bright, sailor-style dress with a baby-doll collar. Her buckle shoes click-clacked together as she bounced on her heels.

"Can I help you find anything, sirs?" she tried again.

"Are you ..." He glanced around, waiting for an adult to pop around the corner. "Where's the librarian?"

"Out," Aqua said, swinging from side to side. "She left me in charge, but I know where all the books are."

"How about newspapers?"

"Follow me." She marched forward, and Yuusaku had no choice but to follow after her. She led them to the back of the library where several shelves were filled not with books but folders. "It's just the one newspaper here, but I think there's every volume ever." She smiled. "You haven't been to a library before, have you?"

"Not this one," Ryouken said. He snatched up the nearest folder and pulled out the paper. Just like with the parchment, the ink was faded and dusty, and there were no pictures, just columns of text with bolded titles and tiny descriptions. Ryouken scrunched his face up trying to read.

Aqua waved a magnifying glass in front of his face. "Here, sir. This will help you." Then she chuckled. "Do you have magnifiers where you came from?"

"Of course."

"And newspapers?"

"Several."

"Then how come you came here?"

Yuusaku blinked.

"Because see, if I wanted to go anywhere, I'd go someplace that had something I didn't have at home, like a jungle. I'd want to go someplace new in a new way, but if you came here and already have those sorts of things ... why'd you pick here?"

"Peace and quiet," Ryouken said.

The corner of Aqua's mouth tilted up in a smile. "Am I disrupting you?"

"It's fine," Yuusaku cut in before Ryouken could say something brutally honest. He slipped further down the shelves, pulling out several different clippings and leafing through them. Were he back home, all he'd need were a couple search terms and the internet would give him all he would need; and if it didn't, he could search the dark web. He'd planned on asking Kusanagi to do some digging for information on the town and any recent disappearances in the northern region of Japan, but without the internet, he'd have to search for it himself.

Manually.

Grumbling, he carried the papers back to one of the sturdy, oak desks at the front. Delicate, silver candelabras stood on the tables, each arm alight with a pristine, white candle. By candlelight, he could easily read the text, but it was menial and drawn-out. He'd need to scan each of the articles on all the pages if he wanted to thoroughly spot any details.

Aqua sat on the table next to him, swinging her feet back and forth. Her little, blue dress splayed out around her, and each time she kicked her feet, the skirt fabric rustled against the minute ridges in the table. Anyone else would have been able to block out the sound, but Yuusaku found himself flinching at the persistent noise. He worked in absolute silence and nothing more.

"Are you searching for something in particular?" she asked.

He grunted.

"Want me to help?"

"Aqua, there you are!"

Flame appeared around the corner, water dripping off his ashy, red hair and tumbling down his cheeks. He looked nonetheless bothered by the rainwater soaking him as he continued on: "Did Miss Miyu send you here?"

"Just to be with Lightning for a bit, " Aqua said, slipping down off the table. "Why? Is she calling me back?"

"No ... I was just looking for you ..." He toed the thin carpet with the tip of one soaked sneaker, and then through his wet bangs, his eyes widened. "You're from the beach, aren't you? You were there yesterday."

Yuusaku peered up from his text.

"Did you see what happened to Earth yesterday?" Flame asked.

He expected the kids to mourn after their friend, but instead, Flame said, "He went looking for you"—

And Yuusaku paused in his reading. "For us?"

"He went back to the beach after you," Flame said. "So you should tell Miss Miyu that you saw him last."

Aqua clicked her teeth together. "Did you tell Miss Miyu that?"

"No, I didn't want to get Earth in trouble."

Carefully, Yuusaku closed the newspaper he'd been perusing. If one of the kids had gone back after him, he and Ryouken hadn't seen him. Had Earth been kidnapped just before they'd left the beach then? He wasn't sure for how long they'd wandered up and down the shores, only that when they'd at last wandered back, the children had all left. But if Earth had gone after them, he would have ran towards them, in the right direction too ...

"Your friend," Yuusaku said, cutting into the children's chatter. "Why did he go back?"

"He wanted to show you the spot, you see. He thought ... you might know what some of that supposed tech-junk is, and I think he was worried you'd get lost." Flame swallowed thickly. "But he shouldn't have gone far, not to get you, I think."

Then Earth had gone right back to them. They should have seen him then.

"What are you looking at there?" Flame asked. He peered over the top of the table. "Earth missing isn't in the news yet."

"Are you looking for other missing kids?" Aqua asked.

"Have there been?" Yuusaku asked.

"Well no one goes  _ missing,"  _ Aqua said, swirling her finger on an empty patch of the table. "But Ai told us about this curse that melts your brain away. He says it's true and that's what happened to Lightning and probably Earth, but I don't think ..." She shook her head, patting her round cheeks. "It's just a frightening story."

Any other time, Yuusaku would have brushed her words away. But he found himself interested in at least what this scary story was all about.

"A curse?"

"The adults all talk about it," Flame said. "If you touch technology, it will curse you. Sometimes, it will just zap you. But there's a story Ai said that says if you use someone else's computer that it'll take your  _ soul,  _ like a monster or a demon."

"That doesn't make sense," Aqua said with a firm shake of her head. "Lightning still has his soul."

"Then what's he missing?" Flame said. "The computer had to have taken something."

In the corner of his eye, Yuusaku caught sight of a particularly chilling headline:  _ Subjects unconscious from experiment.  _ He was wary of whatever science was being published in this small-town newspaper, but to his surprise, it was a remark on a study done just south of the town—and by SOL Technologies nonetheless. The experiment was meant to demonstrate AI processing power, only the device had malfunctioned and grievously injured two workers, sending them both comatose.

"See," Flame said. "The computers took something."

"Is this what happened to the other kids?" Yuusaku asked.

Aqua shook her head. "We were all clicking the computer, sir. All of us touched it. But then Earth went back ..."

Her words confirmed something for him: that it wasn't the technology, not even a short circuit.

"What happened to the first kid?" he asked.

They both clammed up, tucking their chins down to their chests. Their guilty expressions were obvious, but he had no time for beating around the bush.

"I'm not going to tell whoever you think I'll tell. I just want to know what happened."

"Didn't you tell Miss Miyu, Aqua?"

She shook her head. "Ai lied to her."

From what he remembered of Miyu's frantic words, Lightning had gone missing, and the following day they'd discovered him unconscious. She hadn't spoken of how it had happened, and judging by the children's expression, whatever answer they'd given her she'd believed.

"Lightning went to the beach one night to check on our secret hideout," Aqua explained, crumpling the hem of her dress in her sweaty hands. "He was worried someone might come after it, you see—or at least I think he was. He went out by himself that night and never returned. We weren't supposed to be out there that late, so when Miss Miyu asked where he went, Ai said he'd gone to the cafe. He wasn't there, and then Ai lied again and told Miss Miyu that they'd had a fight and Lightning had stormed off."

"She believed that one," Flame said, teeth in his lip.

The beach then. Yuusaku flipped back to the newspapers and began leafing through them. The beach, anything that had happened on the beach, any weird superstitions this village had about the beach. But nothing stuck out to him.

On either side of him, the two kids flipped through the papers too.

"If we go to the beach," Aqua asked, "will we have our brains melted too? Will the same thing happen to us?"

"Not me," Flame said, thumping a hand on his chest.

Yuusaku tuned them out. As much as he wanted to worry about these children, he couldn't just tell them to stay away from the beach as if some sea monster would chase after them and swallow their souls. He wasn't about to feed into the idiotic neuroses of this town. But while the kids talked, he kept his ears pricked for any sort of information. Unlike the adults, they were keen on debating this strange situation, and without being brainwashed into thinking that computers could melt brains, they could think up several other hypotheses. The computers were cursed. There was someone else out there cursing them with computers. It wasn't even the computers at all, but another strange phenomenon.

They bounced the ideas back and forth, acting as a sort of strange white-noise that lulled Yuusaku's mind. He couldn't read with people asking questions, and were it anyone else, he would have snapped, but the children's voices seemed to meld together.

That is, until one particularly loud, grating voice screamed through the library, "Aqua, Aqua—Flame, Flame!"

"Ai?" Aqua's head shot up from its nest in her folded arms, where she'd previously been caught up resting on the table. "We're here in the back—"

"Earth's back, you guys! They found him!"

Yuusaku dropped his newspaper in surprise. Had it been twenty-four hours, or sooner? Was this the same situation as before?

Ai skidded round the last bookcase. His chest heaved with heavy pants and he leaned against the wooden shelf. "He's back, guys. He's ... back."

Ryouken rounded another bookcase too, arms crossed over his chest. No doubt he heard Ai's screams—anyone would have—and had come at once. He raised an eyebrow to the three children, now hurrying down the corridor and out towards the door. He tilted his head towards them.

Yuusaku made for the door too, Ryouken hot on his heels. The dim, evening sun greeted him, but light or no light, the sight before him made his heart clench painfully. Earth was nestled in Miyu's arms, head tucked against her round shoulder. Miyu hoisted him up to see his face, and even from the library door, he could see the faraway look in his eye, the way he appeared unresponsive to her weepy words and gentle caresses. She kept touching his face, stroking his hair; her eyes never left him, not even when the three children approached.

From the side came Takeru and Kiku, both having left their work and ran out from the cafe. They both looked sheet-white—in fact, everyone looked like they'd seen a ghost or two, and they huddled together. Some of the adults brought the kids aside, pushing Aqua, Ai, and Flame to one of the houses with empty praises such as, "Let's have a bite to eat, shall we? Come along, Earth will be fine, Miyu is taking care of him." Tucked behind a building, Yuusaku spotted the other child, Windy, hiding in the shadows.

For a village without a leader, the people managed themselves well. Miyu shooed them away after a moment and took the child in with her. Kiku followed after her, while Takeru returned to the shop. He caught sight of them, lips pressed in a firm line.

Once the path was clear, Yuusaku marched towards the house. Miyu's place looked like every other house in town: small and cosy, made of stacked stones filled together with pavement. The blinds were all open, and little flowers grew in front of the house. It seemed like the sort of quaint cottage this tiny village would have.

His hand stilled at the wooden door.

"What are you waiting for?" Ryouken asked. "You won't get any answers standing out here."

With a roll of his eyes, he rapped his knuckles on the door. He tried again soon after, and Miyu's voice came from inside: "Let yourselves in please."

_ Exactly  _ the sort of fearlessness this small town would have.

The front door opened to a warm, sunny living room, decorated with potted plants and flowers wherever there seemed to be space. The plants even seemed to take up more room than the furniture, and he had to crane his neck round a large palm and several potted ferns just to see the staircase and, further back, the galley kitchen.

"I'm just upstairs," Miyu called down to them.

Yuusaku clenched his jaw together. Had they been kidnappers, Miyu would have just let them into her abode. For all the worrying these villagers did, they thought highly of their people. To them, these disappearances could only be the work of technology.

Nonetheless, he and Ryouken climbed the stairs into the attic. At one point, it must have been Miyu's bedroom, but it had since been renovated into a sort of sick room, with little cots stretched out on the empty floor, and all other furniture pushed against the walls. Miyu sat on a pillow on the floor, carding her hands through Earth's soft hair. Not a blemish marked the child's face, but it was hard not to see the distant look in his eyes or the slow whistle to his breaths, as if he were dreaming with his eyes open. Next to him lied Lightning—a beanpole of a boy with a mop of yellow hair and pale, nearly translucent eyes staring up at the ceiling. Just like Earth, his gaze was empty and he appeared lost in a dream, but for someone who had been in this state for days longer, his plague was hardly noticeable.

Miyu never looked up from Earth, but seated next to her, Kiku's gaze hardened. "Now is not the time—"

"A stranger could have gotten in," Ryouken cut in, folding his arms across his chest. "If you were worried about the safety of yourselves and the children, at the very least be mindful of who you let into your house."

Yuusaku remembered Takeru's gaze well and the fire it held, but that glower had nothing on the way Kiku's face tore into itself. Unbridled rage.

"I'm going to  _ pretend  _ you're not involved in this," she said through bared teeth. "Now is not the time."

"If you think this is the work of some computer curse—and you mean computer  _ virus,  _ I'll correct—then you are sorely mistaken."

"You know an awful lot about this then," Kiku said. "Now may you please leave? This isn't the best of time for  _ visitors." _

Miyu crouched low over the child, like a mother protecting her kin. He had no clue which children belonged to which adults, or if either of these kids were of the two women before him—but he knew if he crossed them that his life would not be spared. He needed these women to listen to him.

"Your children told me that these two ventured onto the beach alone," he began. "Both of them."

Miyu cursed under her breath.

"And?" Kiku said.

"There is technology that could harm them—unlikely, but possible. But to know for certain, I'd like to see—"

"How does this concern you?" Miyu interrupted. She had one hand on each child, holding them in case a stranger in the shadows swept them away. "We didn't send for any detectives."

"They said they were on holidays," Kiku said. "From down in Den City."

"That's where they make those weapons, don't they? SOL Technologies and the other big businesses mucking up the world, playing with things they should have left in the ground."

"We have no business with SOL Technologies—"

"Then you have no business with us—"

"—but a computer alone couldn't cause this. There's something else going on here, orchestrated by someone else."

Kiku and Miyu blinked. Their postures relaxed, just enough that they no longer looked like protective mama bears over their cubs.

"You didn't ask for us," Yuusaku continued, picking each of his words carefully, "but if we can help, we will—and I can tell you for certain that these two kids were part of something other than an accident."

Just then, Ai burst into the room. Quick as the devil, he was at Earth's side, tapping his shoulders. "Earth, Earth, wake up, wake up! You're all right—you made it back."

Kiku grabbed him by the shoulders. "He's resting right now, sweetie—"

"No look, he's awake! Look Earth, blink your eyes."

Yuusaku sucked in a breath when Earth did blink, just once and hardly more than a flutter of this pale lashes. Kiku didn't seem to spot it though, for she continued to wrestle Ai off the bed. The kid was quicker though: he climbed onto the bed, straddling Earth with his legs, and grasped the front of his shirt.

"You've got to wake up, Earth!"

Earth's soulless eyes gazed back at him.

"W-why—"

With a muted sob, Kiku embraced him from behind. The small comfort was all it took for Ai to fold into himself. Tears filled his eyes and he sniffled behind one hand; the other remained fisted in Earth's shirt.

"W-why ... why isn't he answering?"

Slowly, Earth's eyes began to slip close.

"No! No, don't close them!"

Earth's eyes fluttered once more, remaining half-lidded. Next to him, Lightning hadn't moved an inch, and Miyu sat next to him, stroking his hair with one hand. Ai remained in Kiku's embrace, still seated over Earth. His shoulders shook with each of his sobs, and no matter how tightly Kiku squeezed him, he only seemed to grow more upset. Ryouken and Yuusaku, standing in the middle of the room, felt like emotionless heathens. Here they were, in the middle of a great emotional moment, trying to remain statistical and objective.

It was Kiku who spoke up in a breath of a voice: "We can talk later, all right?"

Wordlessly, Yuusaku nodded. He let himself out, down the dim stairs and into the empty darkness. He remembered the fading light when Ai had burst through the library announcing Earth's return. Since then, it had grown so dark that he couldn't even see his hand waving in front of his face, and next to him Ryouken looked like a dark mob with a sliver of white, shining hair.

The walk back to the inn was silent. He could feel the town's anxieties rocking through him, and not in a while had he felt so connected to those around him. He didn't care much for the adults—they were hyper-vigilant and misinformed—but the children ... Maybe it was because he saw himself in each of those children, dashing around the beach looking for buried treasure. Maybe it was because they were all around his age when  _ he  _ went missing, six years old and—

He shook his head, happy when he fell onto a soft, cotton pillow. Ryouken landed next to him, falling with just a bit more grace. The pillow didn't mush up his hair nor flatten his face; he looked like a model posing in the white sheets.

"And somehow," Ryouken said, tucking a corner of Yuusaku's hair behind his ear, "you look both less and more stressed from this trip."

He huffed out a breath.

"I didn't think this sort of mystery would follow us out here."

The covers stiffened beneath them.

"We didn't," Ryouken amended. His free hand, the one not cupping his firm cheek, snaked between Yuusaku's curled fingers. Pinpricks of touch settled across his palm. Ryouken knew where he liked to be touched, where he could lean in rather than away from. The ghost feeling of fingers tracing the age lines of his hands rolled his eyes closed, but he was awake, aware of every breath of his cheeks, every shift in the bed. Aware of the way he drew himself closer until his cheek was pressed into something much softer than a cotton pillow.

"I know this isn't what you thought our vacation would be like, but ... this isn't something I can ignore."

"I know," Ryouken said.

"And I don't think you'd be able to either," Yuusaku added. "Your guilty conscience kicks in when kids are involved."

"You make me sound so sympathetic."

Through the layers of cotton and threads of hair, he could see Ryouken's pursed lips. "You might not be a good person, but you do have a heart. Somewhere." Gently, he pressed his ear against Ryouken's chest. He felt it—a steady, thrumming heartbeat, as warm as sun-kissed sand.

"I don't remember that being the line I told you."

"Then I heard differently."

"Hm."

"But I don't think I could have relaxed anyways," Yuusaku said. With one hand behind Ryouken's back, he was free to trace shapes and symbols, sentences that he could never speak aloud but that he hoped Ryouken would feel through the touch. "Not that I wish this happened ..."

"But if anyone were to come and solve this case, these brainwashed technophobes stand half a chance with us as opposed to, say, SOL?"

"Or Naoki," Yuusaku said with a laugh.

Ryouken shuffled down into the covers, and Yuusaku followed, his cheek never leaving Ryouken chest. When Ryouken drew both hands over his back, Yuusaku shrugged them off—full-body embraces were too unsettling. When Yuusaku stroked Ryouken's face, he felt a bite on his fingertips.

"Sleep," Ryouken was trying to say.

So he did, pressed against a chest that breathed like the ebb of sea waves.


	4. Chapter 4

(Art by the ever-lovely [@breakdawn-avenue](https://breakdawn-avenue.tumblr.com/) \- check out their other works[ here!](https://breakdawn-avenue.tumblr.com/tagged/bA%27s-drawing))

* * *

Wool was over his eyes. No—metal. Hard, cold, pressing against his forehead and cheekbones and squishing his face together. There was a strap hooked under his throat, or at least he hoped it was a strap and not a hand, but the pressure was slowly cutting off his air supply, and he could feel his throat constricting to cough. If he had to guess, there was a helmet on his head, and so heavy that he had to stiffen his neck to keep himself upright. When he blinked, the world stayed the same: dark and all-encompassing. He couldn't feel his breaths blowing back on his cheeks, only the painful chill from the metal pushing against him.

He wanted out.

He wanted to go.

And he knew this had to be a dream because Fujiki Yuusaku, twenty years old, never cried.

But this Yuusaku did. He cried so loudly it echoed off the helmet and plunged back into his eardrums, an endless loop of his muffled weeps and gasping breaths. He screamed in the hopes that the helmet would come off, that the wool or metal or whatever would disappear and he'd see the stars and the sky and whatever was out there waiting for him. But instead the helmet seemed to sink further down onto him, its weight dropping him to the ground.

His stomach lurched and he kicked himself to the side—

Off the bed and onto the floor. Despite how hard he knew he landed—he heard it echo too—the pain was a distant afterthought in his racing mind. Every fibre of his body was in overdrive and he didn't know whether he should get up or stay down; whether he should scream or breathe; whether he had even woken up at all or if this was another illusion from the dream.

Ryouken appeared over the side of the bed. "Yuusaku."

His name. Clear, not echoing, not muffled. The helmet was off his head.

He coughed and shoved his face into his hands. Sweat slicked over his forehead and hair, and as soothing as the sensation of hands on his scalp felt, the contact reminded him of the helmet. The way the air sat around him reminded him of the dream. No matter what he did, no matter how many times he ran his fingers through his hair or pinched his cheeks, he could still vividly remember what he had dreamt of.

This wasn't the first time he'd woken up from a nightmare around Ryouken. It had happened many, many times before, and he no longer cared about how Ryouken would react to him haphazardly trying to bring himself back to his senses. At first, Ryouken used to be _ there _in all the wrong ways—touching him, trying to call him back; doing everything he thought was right but was actually wrong. Now, Ryouken sat back. A glass of water separated them, and Yuusaku knew there was always water there.

He took a sip, only enough to wet his tongue, and then dumped the rest over his head. He expected the chill, but the water from the old inn taps was stronger than he imagined, and he coughed and spluttered and shivered in now-wet pyjamas.

A towel landed at his feet. Gently, he wiped droplets from his cheeks, from his quivering chin—

No. He was safe. Awake. He was in the inn, on the floor, and the only other person around was Ryouken. There was nothing on his head, nothing on his shoulders; he was nowhere he shouldn't be, and what he had imagined had all been a dream.

Shaking the remaining water from his hair, he pushed himself up onto shaking legs. After a mostly-sleepful night, he should have felt awake and energised, but he felt sapped of all energy and ready for another long rest. If only he would stop shaking. Ryouken held out another glass of water for him. He shook his head. Underneath his hand, his stomach was still spinning, and he preferred not to end this panic attack vomiting on the sheets. So Ryouken patted the bed next to him. Again, he shook his head. His sweat was _ visible _on the sheets, and the last place he wanted to be was somewhere that could touch him. The covers, the pillow—he wanted nothing to be near his prickling skin.

"How about a walk then?" Ryouken said. He slipped one foot off the bed, but paused. He was waiting for him to agree.

They slipped into the dewy morning in nothing but their t-shirts and jeans, or Ryouken's ever-casual dress-shirt and slacks. The chilly air felt good on his warm skin, even though he was sure Ryouken was regretting bringing their jackets along for the trip. But best of all, the village was, for once, quiet in a non-frightening way. Had there not been an incident last night, one would have never known. The seagulls’ caws were a faint lull coming from the sea; every so often, he heard a murmur of voices, a beat of pots and pans cling-clanging together.

They meandered out to the beach, dripping with the early golden sun and still damp from the rising waves. The coast stretched far on either side of him. Yuusaku walked towards the rocky shelf. He toed the sand, flicking it around him; Ryouken marched just behind him, hands in his pockets.

"I didn't think ..." He swallowed a growing pit in his throat, and smushed his face together like that might force him to spit out the words. "I didn't think I'd remember _ that _tonight."

"It makes sense," Ryouken said, and quickly followed it with, "Not that that's a reassuring sentiment."

"They have little in common.”. The words seemed more for himself than Ryouken, and yet to him they sounded hollow. Weak. Empty reassurances that he hated most of all.

Ryouken merely hummed to himself. He walked parallel, a steady pace that challenged Yuusaku's gambling gait.

"We're dealing with missing children here. It's not like you wouldn't recall ..."

"My what? My own experience?"

"Yes."

"How unfortunate of me," Yuusaku said. His bottom lip hung from his face like a loose flab of skin, and no matter how many times he pinched it between his tip, it continued to wobble. How pitiful. It had been months since his last nightmare and years—over a decade—since the Lost Incident. There had been years of therapy after the event, and even some sessions during his late adolescence years. He knew better than to beat himself up over it. He knew better. But in the midst of the case, shame burned his ears.

As quietly as he could, Yuusaku whispered, "It was like I was back in that moment. Back in that room. The helmet was on my head and I couldn't see a thing—not even the duel field, not even the virtual reality."

"It was a nightmare."

"I know. I _ know _it was a nightmare."

"But it still felt real."

Long ago, Ryouken would have told him it was nothing to worry about. Would have tried to take guilt from his shoulders and chuck it far into the sea. But he'd learned since then. The guilt and fear and trauma weren't tangible enough to be stripped away from him like some ugly outer coat; he had to shed it himself, sometimes in layers. Each breath he took let the pressure out from his head and chest. Mist formed at the tip of his lips, wetting his tongue.

Like a window opening between the two of them, the morning grew warmer. The sand heated up like a great, grainy vat, nearly tempting him to kick off his shoes and wander barefoot along the beach. When they made it to the rocky shelf, he dipped his fingers into the tepid water. The sun hadn't even been up long, and yet the beach seemed to be basking in whatever light came through the thick clouds. The further they traveled down the beach, the more tech-junk they found sticking up from the sand like half-buried treasure. It was technological, though waterlogged and now more junk than tech: cameras and phones; headphones tied up in knots so tight there was no sign of the beginning or end; keyboards and mice, missing keys or buttons and sometimes having more than they should have. And standing at the edge of the shelf, peering into the water where a pair of headphones floated, was Ai. Without the other children around him, he looked so much smaller, squatting in rain boots and shorts. He was focused on the water too, poking a stick into the depths and either trying to fish out the headphones, or poke at something else submerged deeper into the sea.

"Hey," Ryouken said.

In a comedic arms-flailing moment, Ai shot his head up. At the same time, his body careened forward and he plopped into the water—that wasn't deep at all, only ankle-height. He splashed in the water, face spattered with seawater. His nose scrunched up and he spat out another mouthful.

"Hey yourself!"

"Are you supposed to be out here?" Ryouken said, and his gruff tone relayed that he knew the right answer.

Ai pulled himself out of the water and shook himself like a wet dog. In his hand, Yuusaku spotted the headphones, dangling and broken.

"Give those here."

"You shouldn't touch them either." But Ai gave them up with a flippant throw. Yuusaku caught them and tossed them back into the sea.

"I could have done that," Ai muttered.

"What are you doing out here?" Ryouken asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Just playing.”

As silly as it sounded, he wanted to shake Ai. Tell him that there was danger. He couldn't feed into the delusion that technology alone could harm someone, but he also didn't want to brush aside whatever danger _ was _lurking around. And of course this kid, being a kid and all, didn't understand a word of it. Didn't get that the danger wasn't being out at the beach with the abandoned tech, but simply being alone and unsupervised.

Peeking out of his pocket, Yuusaku caught sight of another wire.

Ai shoved his hand deeper into his pocket. "It's broken, I think," he said. "And besides, this one didn't come from the sea. It's not wet or anything." He pulled the wire out of his pocket—a cord encased in white plastic with a headphone jack at one end and snipped, exposed wires on the other. It could have been attached to anything for all they knew, but sure enough, it was drier than bone. It didn't even smell salty.

"Where did you find this?" Ryouken asked.

Ai pointed behind him. Between the bushes, he spotted a trail so narrow it could hardly be called a trail. An animal's path to the beach perhaps. But Ai slipped through the shrubbery and onto the trail, kicking branches back and forth. "It leads back to the town," he said, and without another word, started off down the path. He was long gone before Yuusaku had a chance to call him back, and so he had no choice but to follow after him.

Branches tickled his cheeks and arms. He sorely regretted not wearing a jacket, and further into the forest, the air grew even colder than out on the open beach. Behind him, Ryouken grumbled and rubbed at where branches had snagged his dress top.

"Is this disconnecting from technology?" Yuusaku had to say.

Ryouken flicked the back of his head. "Eyes forward."

Once Ai realised they were following him, he slowed down and weaved back and forth on the trail. He seemed to have travelled this way many times before, as he knew where the boulders on the path were or tripping-hazard-vines that Yuusaku's toes always caught on.

"I could walk this path with my eyes closed," Ai proudly told them, marching with his chest puffed out like a king. "And I do—every morning before the sun rises."

"Every?"

"Well, almost every."

He did seem to know where they were going, and unless they wanted to march back to the beach and walk along the shore, this seemed like a shortcut.

Just as he turned his head to the side, spotting the vines weaving up and down into the thick branches, he saw something unfamiliar—something that shouldn't have been in the forest. A house. A little, ramshackle house made of boards and nails, with no windows or even a door. The four, rotting walls caved in on each other, seemingly connected by the roof that was sinking into itself. No one could live in such a decrepit place, but then again, how did the house even get out here?

Ai planted his hands on his hips. "Well that wasn't here before."

Charming. They'd found a haunted mansion.

Yuusaku rolled his eyes from side to side. If anyone did live out here, then they were far removed from a society that already was removed.

"This doesn't look new," Ryouken said. "You must not have seen it before."

It was meant as a comment, but Ai huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well I've been down here plenty of times and never seen it before—and you can still see the sea from here too, so we should have spotted it."

An abandoned house with a view of the ocean. Yuusaku's stomach churned and twisted beneath his hand. "Go back," he said to Ai.

"Why?"

"You're not supposed to be out of the village."

"You're not my mom."

He sighed through his nose. When he was a child, he never remembered being this stubborn and pesky—and yet Ai was as bullheaded as Naoki, and as pesky too.

"Then stay here."

As soon as the words were out, Ai pushed through the ferns and headed towards the house. His tinny voice had no volume control, and it was even more obvious in the silent forest as he bellowed, "Who'd live in a dump like this, huh?"

Ryouken looked ready to snap in two.

They followed Ai towards the house, their own footfalls quieter than the skitter of woodland creatures. For an abandoned house, there wasn't much to it: the structure was falling apart, yet there was no trash, no signs that anyone had dashed out and left the house to ruin. He pushed a palm against the wooden planks and found them sturdier, like there was a concrete wall on the other side. No holes either. No entrances or exits, and no signs of life.

"How'd this get here?" Ai asked, rapping his knuckles on the wood.

Instead of silence though, Yuusaku heard someone else.

"Ai?"

Windy, the little green-haired boy. He marched through the woods with a hat on his head and a backpack strapped over his tensed shoulders. Did no one watch their children in this town? He had the grace to look startled, and also not to turn tail and run back from wherever he had come, but he stood stiller than trapped prey, as if they might rub their eyes and realise they hadn't actually seen him in the first place. Fortunately, Ai was much too loud with his greetings.

"Windy, what're you doing here? You sneak out here too."

"How come you do?"

"Aw, I'm not going to rat you out! What, you knew of this place?"

"What're they doing here?" Windy jabbed a finger towards Yuusaku and Ryouken.

"Beats me," Ai said. He sauntered over and swung an arm round Windy's shoulders. "So did you know this place existed all along? And you never told us?"

"Is that true?" Ryouken's booming voice snapped both children to face him, and only Ai had the gall to look peeved. Windy's entire demeanor seemed at war between fighting or fleeing, and he kept clenching and unclenching his hands. "Have you been here before?" Ryouken asked.

Windy shook his head.

"A lie?"

Windy's bottom lip looked like it might slip off his face. "I only went this far," he said, rubbing a toe in a bit of dry soil. "It was Lightning who went here. By himself. I only followed him to here."

The first child; the first victim. He remembered the little blond-haired boy lying on the cot. He'd already been taken before they arrived, and they'd only heard rumours about what happened. But then the children had said Lightning was on the beach—that both children were on the beach when it had happened.

Whereas Yuusaku wanted to breach the topic lightly, Ryouken had no such intentions. "When was that?"

"I don't know," Windy said in a warbling voice. He straightened his back as Ryouken took a step forward. "I don't even know what day it is today."

"Did Lightning go missing on that day? Or return?"

"Go missing."

"How come the adults said that Lightning was at the beach?"

Ai whirled his head around. "You lied to the adults?"

"So did you," Windy said.

Ryouken cut them off before they could argue. "And what happened here?"

"Nothing." Windy shirked back into his sweater. "I just saw Lightning come here and go into that shack, I think. There's a door on the side, if you put your finger on a little switch."

"Show me."

"Ryouken—" They couldn't put one of these children in danger, even if they wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery. He was already against having Ai and Windy in the forest with them, but going into the shack seemed like a recipe for disaster.

"We'll be there," Ryouken said. "Now show us how he got in."

Windy led them up to the front of the shack. He tapped his hands against the wooden panels, lower to the ground where only a kid's hands would naturally reach for. Yuusaku didn't even see him find the switch, but after a loud tap a panel of the shack tipped forward, revealing a crawlspace no larger than a cardboard box. A child could fit in easily, and an adult with some wriggling, but it was a tight squeeze.

"He went in here," Windy said.

"Alone?" Ryouken asked.

A nod.

"Very well." Ryouken knelt down in the earth and poked his head in. His broad shoulders scratched the sides of the passage, but with some shifting he got his upper body into the crawl space, and his hips and legs followed after. As soon as the passage was clear, the two children scrambled in after him. Yuusaku had no choice but to let them go along, and he climbed into the passage and followed them.

For a crawlspace, it was only cramped at the start. The tunnel widened so that the children could crawl side by side, and so that Yuusaku could move without even feeling the walls. Somehow, it felt less assuring to know that the walls weren't an inch or two away from him. And it was brighter too, glowing from his duel disk he forgot he'd shoved in his pocket and another light source that he couldn't pinpoint. Ahead of him the children scampered on hands and feet like wild animals, and Ryouken wobbled from side to side as he tried to keep up with them.

_ Ping! _

Ahead of him, Ai and Windy mimicked the sound: "Ping! Ping—pooong."

After several minutes of crawling, light shone like a welcoming beacon. They quickened their pace, breaking the surface—

Only to wind up just thirty or so feet away from the shack, poking out of the hole like moles.

"Fuck," Ryouken muttered.

"Fuck!" Ai and Windy repeated with gusto.

What had the point of that been then? Was the tunnel just an abandoned passage? They had gone through the shack, but never entered it?

"Let's do that again," Ai said, scampering off to try again, Windy hot on his heels.

Yuusaku stared back down into the hole. If they were to believe the kids, and those two hadn't lied again, then this was where Lightning had gone, the last place anyone had seen him before he disappeared and wound up on the beach.

He sighed, running his hands through his hair.

"Worth a shot," Ryouken said, but even from his assured voice it sounded forced.

Yuusaku clicked his duel disk open. By the way the sun was streaming through the trees, the town would be waking up now. The kids should have been home by now before they were caught, and he remembered Kiku telling them that she'd talk later about what had happened in the town. After the dreadful night and adventurous morning, he was looking forward to sitting down with a cup of black coffee and talking theoretics.

On the screen, a little notification glowed: _ Autumn Is Here! Save up to 60% on all Link Vrains merch— _

He deleted the e-mail without a second glance.

Ryouken chuckled into his fist. "You have service out here?"

Yuusaku started to laugh too—someday he'd get around to unsubscribing from Link Vrains' e-mail alerts—but as Ryouken's question sunk in, his breath gave away. Service. His duel disk ... had service?

"When?" He opened his deleted messages; right at the top was the recent e-mail, time-stamped for when it was received—a couple minutes ago, not long, so it must have been—

"There's service in that tunnel."

A chill ran up and down his spine. He didn't remember feeling any wires there, and for him to get service down there meant that not only were there wires but also a transmitter with just enough strength to reach through that tunnel. He remembered the soft ping that at the time he thought was just his shoe bouncing off a rock, and the kids making fun of the sound. He hadn't considered it was the neutral e-mail tone notification he never bothered to change.

There was service down there. He could call Kusanagi.

Ai and Windy popped their heads out of the tunnel. Windy pointed up at the duel disk and asked, "So what's that, mister?"

"Out," Yuusaku said. "Now."

They hadn't listened one peep to Ryouken, but somehow his tone had them scrambling onto the grassy floor. Yuusaku slipped down into the tunnel; this entrance was still wider, and he only had to shuffle himself forward before he could easily twist round and crawl head-first. He crawled with one hand; the other held his duel disk displaying his home page. At the corner, the service disappeared, then flickered—

And then he was connected. No notification, no e-mails, but if he'd only received the one, this meant that the only place he could possibly connect was down here.

He crammed himself deeper into the tunnel, just in case the signal was better in the middle than at either of the entrances, and then made the call. The dial tone matched with the racing of his heart.

"Weren't you supposed to be disconnecting?" Kusanagi answered, the smile echoing his tone.

"I need you to look something up for me: kidnappings in the north. Missing children in the north. Anything along those lines."

No snarky comeback. No retort. He could hear Kusanagi tapping away, fingers bouncing over the holographic keys. Yuusaku held his breath.

"No results."

"Technology washing up on the shore. Accidents at power plants, at electronics warehouses. Anything that SOL has been keeping under wraps."

"Not that I've seen," Kusanagi said. "What's the situation up there? I might not be searching correctly."

"Two kids have gone missing and returned the following day. No physical injuries, but they're either shocked or comatose."

Kusanagi sucked in a breath. His own brother had been injured from a secret experiment, the same one Yuusaku painfully remembered. He was better now—still recovering, with lapses in his memory and permanent muscle dysfunction—but comatose children brought on intense emotions for Kusanagi. Yuusaku could feel them through the duel disk, warm against his palms.

"Are they like Jin?"

"No ..." But also yes. No, they weren't as alert as Jin was: he could sit upright and keep bits and pieces of a conversation. But they had the same, glazed look as Jin; the same emptiness, Kusanagi once called it, as if only part of them was still present. It was an awful thing to say. No one was empty. But something was missing, or not how it should have been. But the Lost Incident happened years ago, and all the circumstances that had led to it had been disrupted. No researchers. No lead researcher creating AIs with free will. No secret laboratory. No Dr. Kougami.

"I'll keep an eye on SOL," Kusanagi said. "They're currently swamped with work for the next update, so I doubt they have much time to be making havoc—but old tech washing up on the beach could very well be them not doing their jobs."

He forced out a laugh. Leave it to SOL to just drop the ball.

"But if someone is targeting children." Kusanagi's pause cut through the tepid silence. "They're out there so that they're not caught. I'll look into who's traveled out there for the past month—it won't be many people, mind you, but the CCTV cameras on the platform should show me something."

"Are there cameras out here?" Yuusaku found himself asking. "Or signals?"

"Just the one you're at," Kusanagi said. "And speaking of which, where are you?"

"Underground. Can you spot the transmitter?"

"Not clearly, but I'd say that if you were only able to connect to me from down below, the transmitter shouldn't be too far, nor should it reach further than twenty, maybe thirty yards. Is there anything nearby?"

The shed. They'd passed under it, and he'd brushed it off at once, figuring that the more important detail was this tunel. And it was—but now he was itching to climb back up.

Kusanagi seemed to hear it in his tone. "Call me if you need any further help. I'll send you an e-mail if I get any new information, so be sure to come back down here. I'm here, all right?" _ Whatever you need. _Kusanagi had always been there for him.

He ended the call and shuffled back out of the tunnel. Ai and Windy had climbed out and were bumping shoulders trying to get closer to him. A few feet back, Ryouken stood with his face in his splayed hands. Of all the stressful elements of this trip, the bickering, enthusiastic children seemed to be what was wearing his patience thin.

"Well?" Ryouken asked, reaching down to help him out of the tunnel. Yuusaku let his weight be pulled and shuffled onto the grass. They bonked chests, and for a moment his heart skipped a beat—but then the weight of the situation slammed on his shoulders and the air between them grew cold and nippy.

"Kusanagi is looking into it." They glanced at the two children, staring at them with wide, thoughtful eyes. "I'll tell you about it later."

"I can keep a secret," Ai said, bouncing his head up and down.

"Me too," Windy said, his voice a warm, cheery trill.

"You two need to be back home," Yuusaku said. "Someone's going to be out looking for you."

Windy blundered on. "We pretended we're sleeping. It's how Lightning always used to go out. He'd bunch up the blankets on his bed and sneak away—he's the one who found all that stuff on the beach—"

"Hey, I found that!"

Windy only leered at him, bright teeth exposed like a Cheshire Cat. "I remember you being too scared to even go on the beach when we first left. It was Lightning and Flame who had to convince you."

Ai huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Big liar."

"Indeed," Windy said. He rocked back and forth on his heels until Ai knocked him forward with a hand.

"Come on, breakfast is probably almost ready."

As if their bickering had never happened, they dashed off down the chip trail and through the forest. He considered chasing after them; if they were alone, who knew what could happen to them. But then they'd already slipped out enough. If someone wanted to, they would have taken them in the morning.

A chill ran up and down his spine, eased only by the firm hand chasing the chill away. Ryouken dropped his chin onto his shoulder. His feathery hair brushed against Yuusaku's cheek, and he leant closer to press skin-to-skin, pink cheek to pink cheek.

"Kusanagi's going to see if anyone else came to the town," he whispered.

"Mhm."

"And figure out if this is just a lone person, or if some secret organisation is targeting this village."

"Hm."

He rolled his head along Ryouken's jaw, feeling each ridge. He was clenching his teeth together, an action he did whenever he was deep in thought. This trouble was on Ryouken's mind too.

"Let's go talk to Miyu.”


	5. Chapter 5

At the very least, the children were safe. All four of them were huddled behind either Miyu or Kiku, who Yuusaku now saw as the town matrons and carekeepers of all residents and land. Miyu had her arms round the children, while Kiku was ready to throw down. Out of everyone, she would have been the most valiant fighter.

But standing before them wasn't a fighter. Spectre was a lanky sort of person, the kind that grew up like a tree but never filled out like Ryouken. He stood out in a crisp, white suit trimmed with blue velvet, and yet Yuusaku's eyes could only focus on the duel disk he had strapped to his arm. That was what had Kiku and Miyu in shock—not his appearance, but the weapon they were claiming he brought along with him.

"For photos," Spectre was trying to explain. Over Miyu and Kiku’s shushing, the children were trying to pull away from their grasp. They were eagerly asking him questions such as, "Does that shoot lasers?" and "Can you kill someone with that?" and "Where are all the buttons on it?" Spectre kept laughing it off, and naturally Kiku and Miyu were becoming more frazzled and frightened.

Spectre's attention changed as soon as they approached. His head shot up like a gopher and he raised a hand. "So there you are!"

Ryouken raised an eyebrow. "I see you've adjusted well."

Kiku glanced between the two of them. "Another visitor of yours?" she said.

"Someone who's been here before—" Ryouken began, but Miyu cut him off.

"Have you now? Haven't seen your face around before."

"I prefer to keep to myself."

Did he? When Yuusaku had heard about this place, he'd assumed Spectre had not only travelled this far before, but had conversed with the locals. They hadn't spoken of him once though, and as Kiku and Miyu hustled the children further back, he then realised that these isolated villagers probably didn't meet many people outside of their little town.

And now three of them had shown up in the span of a few days following two abductions.

"Is he the guy you're looking for?" Windy said to him, jabbing a finger at Spectre.

"What guy?" Miyu asked. She was looking more and more frantic each time she spoke, her hair tumbling out of its updo and frizzing in the air.

"The guy you went into the tunnel to see," Windy continued, eagerly bouncing his head up and down. By the shit-eating smirk across his face, he knew he wasn't meant to speak of what happened in the forest, and Yuusaku felt himself slipping further into his t-shirt. He longed for a jacket so he could zip his collar up and block it all out, but he and Ryouken were still in shirts and trousers, arms nipped from the ocean breeze.

"Yeah," Ai said, joining right in. "You went down into the tunnel and—and spoke to someone down there!"

"Is there someone living down there?" Kiku's hands closed into tight fists, and she didn't seem to know who she should be glaring at; Yuusaku felt her anger like a flaming vortex.

"Not down there," Spectre said. He had the gall to shove his hands in his pockets, and of everyone, he looked the most calm and collected.

"So then there's someone—"

Ryouken grabbed Spectre by the shoulder. He moved with the confidence of a leader, and the only one who didn't flinch away was Kiku, who kept hold of both Ai and Flame, one child in each hand. Ryouken stared round at the group, lip curled. "There's nothing to hang around for, and we have something to discuss." And without another word he marched off with Spectre.

Yuusaku knew he was meant to come along; Ryouken would never lay his hands on him like that, but there was an urgency to his movements. He had something to discuss with the three of them. So he gave a quick glance to Miyu and Kiku, ignored the stares of the children, and headed off down the path.

Ryouken hadn't been kidding when he said he wanted to be somewhere private. He and Spectre had headed out well past the village's perimeter and into the open moorland. The grass was haphazardly cut, making the landscape look much more bristly. There was no path, but he recognised the ground as the way he and Ryouken had taken from the train stop out to the town. Ryouken seemed to be walking along this very same path. He and Spectre stood out, two stick-like figures around an empty plain; but he couldn't hear what they were saying. Spectre kept waving his arms and forth with animated movements; for all he knew, Spectre could have been telling him a story, or simply talking about random bullshit trivia.

They slowed down at least two miles out from the town, and by that point Yuusaku had caught up. He leant forward on his knees, breath coming in heavy pants. Despite the exertion, he felt cold to the bone, and no amount of arm-rubbing kept him warm.

"Bit far out," Spectre spoke up. He shielded his eyes with a brimmed hand and gazed around the empty field like he was taking in the magnificent sights.

"What are you doing here?" Ryouken asked.

"Busting your honeymoon." A toothless smile. "I thought you might get bored out here."

"Truthfully, we're rather busy." He didn't miss the way Ryouken's lips curled after the ends of his words, and his 's' came out as a hiss of breath between pinched features. "Perhaps you could be of service."

"On my holiday? What details are you enticing me with?"

"Abduction."

One of Spectre's pale, thin eyebrows darted up past his sleek, silver bangs. "Oh." He had the gall to look surprised. All at once, he was no longer poking fun at them. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at his feet. "That's a recent event."

"That happen when you came out here?"

"I wouldn't know," Spectre said, and he quickly raised a hand. "Honest. I never went into the village."

That would explain their surprise at seeing visitors. But Yuusaku curled a hand under his chin. Spectre came here often, he knew that for a fact; and unlike the children who seemed to spout more lies than truths, Spectre could tell them with complete honesty what had happened in this village or the surrounding areas.

"What about around here?"

Again, Spectre made a show of gazing round the empty plain. "Not much to see here, as you can tell. But those forests out there, that's where all the kids and adults go. I went exploring out there,  and it's a pretty good place to hide."

"But not those adults?" Yuusaku asked. "They didn't recognise you."

Spectre shook his head. "I never got a good look at them, but there was someone living in that forest who I thought what just a villager. Sometimes I'd seem them meditating up on the cliffs overlooking the sea. I could show you, if you'd like?"

"Yes," Ryouken said.

The forest Spectre had pointed to hadn't looked all that far away, but it was over an hour later when they crossed into the shade. Thick, green canopies of leaves and fallen branches hung over their heads. The forest on the other side, where the shack was, had been thinner with small, dusty paths snaked between the trees. This forest seemed eons old, with thick roots snaking out of the ground and plummeting deep into the earth's core. The air tasted older here, musty and dry, and though he knew the ocean would be awaiting them on the other side, through the thick overgrowth he couldn't hear a single tumbling wave. When they spoke, their voices were swallowed up by the trees.

Spectre marched at the front, head held high and shoulders rolled back. Neither the darkness nor the cramped path bothered him, and he seemed to know where he was going. Somehow. Yuusaku couldn't see a path beneath their feet, and all the trees looked the same.

"That other stranger—were they a villager?"

"I don't know," Spectre said with a shrug. "They never saw me, and I never saw them. Honestly, I never stepped foot in that village—but I'm certain the kids were all going out."

"Those kids?" Yuusaku asked.

Spectre shook his head. "Dunno. You said technology is washing up here, correct?"

Ryouken crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you anything about that? Yuusaku contacted Kusanagi Shouichi, but perhaps you and the other Hanois have found different news."

"It's not SOL, if that's what you're thinking. At least I don't think so. They have enough problems to deal with, and it's not like they have stock to waste and wash up here." Spectre let out a short a-ha and clapped his hands together. "There's the house."

It was another hut, a bit larger than the one they'd found earlier that day, and made of stone stacked together. Nonetheless, it wouldn't have housed more than a single person, and by the state of the chipped stone, weathered door, and frosty window, it hadn't been occupied in quite some time. Yet Spectre bounded towards it like this could have been his abode, stopping right at the covered doormat.

"Knew someone lived here," he said, and before they could speak up, he rapped on the door.

Only the wind answered them.

"Must be another tourist," Spectre said. He wandered round the house and pressed his face against the dirty window pane. Yuusaku brushed his hands over this rusted door knob. This house hadn't just dropped down here; someone must have taken up residence and then moved out. Yet Kiku had told him all residents lived within the town, not outside of it.

"Would this be where the other visitor lived?" Ryouken asked.

"Could be," Spectre said. "Or one of the hideouts for the children."

Yuusaku made a mental note to ask the children about this later—not that most of them would give him a straight answer, but perhaps if he asked Flame or Aqua, the more mature children of the group, he could learn some information about their adventures. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting one of the children to be hiding away in the ferns. Only the wind waved back.

Ryouken rapped his knuckles on the door too, and jiggled the handle back and forth. He pressed his shoulder against it, and then with a soft grunt, slammed his weight into it. The door creaked and groaned. A long, jagged split forced itself between the old wood. Ryouken hit it again. The door crumbled in two.

Without a word, Ryouken slipped in. Yuusaku followed after him. He patted his hand against the nearest wall in the rare hope that there might be a light switch, but the wall was bare and the room dark. In the dim forest, only a sliver of light could creep both through the trees and into the house, and it made wandering around feel like a death trap. One of Ryouken's hands reached out to take his, and Yuusaku squeezed back.

Behind them, Spectre shook his duel disk and a soft light erupted from the centre. Yuusaku had forgotten all about his duel disk; he hadn't wanted to bring it into the village in fear of the very same reaction the villagers gave Spectre. But out here it wouldn't matter.

The house was empty. There was no bed, kitchen, or bathroom, and the house looked much more like a storage facility or warehouse, only nearly-barren. The only contents of the place was a table upon which sat—

A computer. Yuusaku had to crane his head to the side to ensure he could see it clearly, and Ryouken brushed the dust from its top. But it was undoubtedly a computer: an old, archaic computer with a large, boxy shape and a hump on its back where the fan and wires went. The screen curved outwards, and it was so small that it made the holographic screen of their duel disks look enormous. Behind it were the wires, snipped and exposed. It wouldn't turn on unless they restored the power cables.

Ryouken crouched in front of it, blowing dust from the crevices between the boxy casing and the screen. "Looks like no one's been here in ages."

Spectre hummed. "But I was here just last month and that stranger was out here too. Maybe he wasn't staying here."

"There's no service out here either," Yuusaku said.

"At all."

He shook his head. "At the other shack, if you go underground, there's a transmitter down there. It wouldn't be enough to send a signal across the town and out here, but it worked enough that I could make a phone call."

"Really?" Spectre hummed to himself. "This town is full of secrets then."

Yuusaku patted the sides of the machine. They'd need tools and a power source to bring this computer back to life; a day's work if they went back to the other shack and dug up the wires there, or carried this computer through the town and into the other forest. He doubted there would be much on the computer—files to sort through, but what would they even find all the way out here? He shuffled to the side and began searching the room. If this hideout was only to store a broken computer, that put an air of mystery in the environment. How did a computer even get out here?

Yet the room was empty save for the computer. He patted walls and searched for secret compartments under the desk, yet there was nothing hidden in the room. In the end, they could only sit back and sigh at their discovery.

_ Creak. _

Yuusaku spun around, prepared to dash or jump. But it was just Windy at the door, eyes ever-wide.

"Again?" Ryouken muttered.

Spectre's smile widened. "The joys of being young."

Windy didn't run, but his little hands tightened round the door handle, and he pulled it towards himself so that only a sliver of his face peeked through the doorway. "I-I thought you were at the other one," he said.

"So you knew there were two," Yuusaku said.

"Lightning ... too."

The little blond-haired boy, the first abduction victim. He'd know about both of them, if Yuusaku remembered correctly. These two places had already seemed suspicious enough, but now Yuusaku felt a feeling of dread. No one knew where Lightning was last seen; he was only found on the beach, likely between the two forests.

Windy opened the door slightly, gazing past them. "That thing's broken, you know?"

"How do you know that?" Ryouken asked.

Windy shirked back.

"Ryouken," Yuusaku muttered.

"Well ..." Windy said. He pushed the door open and headed to the computer. His little hand shook as he reached for the computer tower, then behind it towards the cables. Yuusaku felt his throat seize up despite knowing that nothing could hurt him. The computer was unplugged and the wire, while exposed, couldn't do any more harm than a cut.

"These here ... they're not plugged in."

So he was familiar with power.

"Has it ever been?" Ryouken asked.

"No." Windy held the cord out. "Lightning said it was broken and that we couldn't fix it, not with what we found at the beach."

"Is that what you're collecting? Parts to fix?"

Windy shook his head. "Lightning might have been, but I just find parts and Ai likes to hoard them all. B-but ..." Windy's lip began to wobble, and his gaze flickered to each of the adults in the room. "This computer didn't hurt Lightning, did it?"

"Did you last see him here?" Yuusaku asked. "Or at the other shack?"

A shrug.

"A lie?" Ryouken said.

Even a fearsome predator would have quivered at Ryouken's gravelly tone. Windy's knees knocked together, and Yuusaku pinched Ryouken's wrist. Now was not the time to interrogate the kids, as troublesome as they may have been.

"Do you remember anything before Lightning disappeared? Anywhere he was?"

"He told me not to follow him," Windy said, hands fisted in the bottom of his shirt. "I don't know where he went—he could have gone anywhere, to either of these places or—or elsewhere!"

Spectre's voice caught them off guard. "Elsewhere? Where else have you kids gone?"

"I dunno ... Aqua goes sneaking off too. You should ask her."

It wasn't a satisfying answer, but it gave them another clue: the children were all wandering around this town, and likely one of them had come across something strange or suspicious.

"Did you ever see a stranger out here?" Spectre asked.

"Like you?"

"No."

"Then no."

And that was the end of that conversation. Windy scampered out of the room after that, disappearing into the woods before any of them could say they should all stick together and return to the village as a group. Yuusaku sighed into a fist. Protecting a town that could hardly keep track of itself seemed like far too daunting of a task, and were it not for the comatose children, he would have left the town to its own devices. It would have sorted itself out.

"I see your investment in this mystery now," Spectre said, rubbing at his chin. "Kids."

"Are you invested?" Ryouken asked. "We could use a hand so long as that same hand is not dipping itself into trouble."

Spectre waved his hand back and forth, catching the light on his fingertips and white sleeve. "You wound me. But." He sobered at once and a long, fierce shadow drew behind him. "I wouldn't be so naive to brush this matter aside. I rather like this little place, and I'd prefer not seeing it caught up in this mess."

And with that, they marched out too. Yuusaku kept his eyes peeled for any further sight of children hiding away in the ferns, but they made it out of the forest and back to the village without any mishaps. Ryouken and Spectre spent most of the time talking Hanoi logistics; he lent an ear to part of their prattle, but for the most part somehow-not-cyberterrorism plans had little to do with him. He was in love with Kougami Ryouken, the data analyst; and Revolver, the Link Vrains duelist; but Revolver, the Knights of Hanoi leader, was an afterthought in his mind. After all, Revolver didn't pester him over Playmaker, the Warrior of Justice in Link Vrains.

He shouldn't have been surprised to see Takeru in the town square, seated on one of the benches as if he'd been expecting them. The book in his hands snapped closed and he rose, arms crossing over his chest.

"Well?"

"I'm here to do no harm," Spectre said. He placed a hand over his heart and added, "Promise."

Yuusaku swallowed back a snort. He wouldn't trust Spectre's word under most circumstances, and Takeru had every right to bristle like a territorial beast.

"He's an assistant of ours," Ryouken said. "If you'd like to uncover just what is happening in your town, you'll be wise to let him stay."

"Like any of you three are a good sign." Takeru glanced to the side, to where Flame sat on another bench, peering over the top of the book. "You stay away from the children, all right? All of you."

"You might want to keep track of them then," Ryouken said.

Takeru's eyes melted to thin slivers. "What did you say?"

"Just to ensure you are staying near them. Wouldn't want them to run off to anywhere unpleasant."

Takeru growled, the noise rumbling between them like the start of an earthquake. He held his ground, body stiff and rigid. Yuusaku gave Ryouken and Spectre each a push on the shoulder to start them moving, and before they could spout another word, he had them both heading towards the inn.

"You're only going to cause more suspicions for us," he said, and for good measure added, "So don't pick a fight that'll only drive us out of this town."

"If only they could be a bit more hospitable," Ryouken said with a sniff.

"Glad I never got to know them," Spectre added. He paused, a breath leaving his pursed lips. "Say," he said then, drawing the word out, loosening every muscle in his body. The change was so sudden Yuusaku let go, and Spectre twirled around on his heel. "Are you by any chance leading me back to your hotel room? You wouldn't happen to have a place for me, would you?"

Yuusaku blushed, looking away.

Ryouken huffed and rolled back his shoulder; Yuusaku had to let go of him too, and he hung his hands at his sides.

They swung open the inn doors and stepped inside. Yuusaku blinked to adjust the dim, honeyed lights, and he gazed around in search of Miyu—only to then remember just where Miyu would be. Ah. Shit.

Wasn’t there a room across from them?

Yuusaku jiggled the door handle opposite of his and Ryouken’s room. He expected it to the give some resistance with the age of this building, but the door also remained firmly locked. 

Spectre spun around, a warm smile on his face. "Well, it looks like there's only one room for me to sleep in then."

Yuusaku  _ heard  _ Ryouken stalk away before he saw him leave, his steps as thunderous as a storm. He let out a sigh and followed after him, up the steps and into their cramped room. The bed took up the most space, but there was a small patch at the foot and the side of the bed where a body  _ could  _ sleep. Maybe.

Spectre poked his head through the door, grinning. "That nice innkeeper is bringing me bedding. I'm sure I could sleep right there at the foot of the bed."

At least he wasn't suggesting sleeping  _ on  _ the bed with them. Then Ryouken might have strangled Spectre and Yuusaku would have let him. He didn't mind Spectre being around, and in fact, his _laissez-faire_ attitude might do them some good ...

But the sight of Spectre lying out his bedding left a sharp stone in his belly, one that Ryouken seemed to be suffering from too. He looked restless and unnerved, and Yuusaku had to wonder how all this was faring for him. Abductions and suspicious happenings weren't settling circumstances for Ryouken either. Yet he seemed to steel himself with callousness, and he wouldn't breathe a word of any affliction while Spectre was around.

With a sigh, Yuusaku settled down onto the bed. They'd need to sort matters soon, and with the three of them plus Kusanagi, the case would solve itself in the coming days.


	6. Chapter 6

By the next morning they had a solid plan.

First, they would head down to the cafe to speak with Takeru and Kiku. Kiku had wanted to say something two days earlier and he hadn't caught up with her about it, and something told him that what she wanted to say had been important. It would also give them a chance to make amends for yesterday; Yuusaku was thoroughly embarrassed by Spectre's flippantness and Ryouken's callousness, and hopefully a chat over coffee and scones would bridge the gap. He wasn't too keen on getting cosy with any of the villagers, but acting hostile would only push them further away from the incidents. They needed every pair of eyes and ears, even those that were covered by technophobic wool.

Then they would check out the first shack, the one they'd visited with Ai and Windy. He wanted to have a look inside the building even if that meant tearing it down. They believed the transmitter was in there, but as Spectre had pointed out last night when they reviewed the facts, no one had actually  _ seen  _ what was inside the shack. They'd just assumed by what Kusanagi could tell them and the service strength Yuusaku had had on his device. Perhaps if they checked out the shack they'd come across another clue.

Ryouken wanted to travel further up the beach too. He figured that the water must rush south, and that if SOL or any other company had a secret power plant, they'd tuck it far away from civilisation. They wouldn't be able to walk to the tip of the coast, but even a long walk might help them piece together how junk was washing up along the shores.

It seemed like a near-perfect, solid plan that would get them through the day and help piece together the mystery.

Yet just as Yuusaku was slipping on his jacket and tying his scarf, a long bang sounded on the door. Then a flurry of them from fast fists, ricocheting off the wood until Ryouken yanked the door open with a snarl.

"Ye—"

"Help!" Ai said, slamming another fist on the door for good measure. "It's Aqua—she's missing!"

Yuusaku's blood ran cold. Jacket unbuttoned, he hurried down the stairs, with Ai hot on his heels. He heard Ryouken rush down with him, and Spectre soon after, slamming the door closed. The inn sounded occupied by a hundred elephants from all their stamping, and when they made it out to the village, they didn't have to travel far. Kiku, Takeru, and Miyu were out with the children: Miyu trying to keep them all together, and Takeru and Kiku engrossed in a panicked conversation that had their shrill voices echoing off the buildings.

Takeru snapped his head to the side at once. "You—"

Kiku batted him on the shoulder. "Now's not the time," she said, and then, "She's missing—Aqua's missing and she wouldn't have dashed off like the others, I know that smart girl."

"Was she home last night?" Yuusaku asked.

Takeru slipped an arm over Kiku's shoulders, hugging her close. "She was—and all of last night too."

"So she slipped out this morning then," Ryouken said.

"And how would you know that?" Takeru said.

"Simple deduction." Ryouken's tone cut through their weak accusations. "Did anyone see her? Any of you children perhaps?"

Miyu huffed and held them close, but the children—Ai, Flame, and Windy—shook their heads. Yuusaku believed them. They all looked far too frightened, as if they expected one of each other, not Aqua, to go missing. He remembered something one of the children had said to him:  _ Aqua never lied.  _ She was perhaps the honest leader of them, and no doubt she wouldn't have snuck away to worry her friends sick.

She must have been taken then.

His eyes scanned the horizon. The village was empty, the sun still low in the sky. The breeze whistled by his ears, but no unfamiliar noises—no cars or vehicles, no hurried footsteps.

"Where would she go?" Spectre said.

Kiku's brow furrowed. "She wouldn't go anywhere. She was a good girl and she never left without permission."

"Did she follow you kids then?" Spectre asked, kneeling down to the children. "Did you dear friend Aqua know how to get to either of those secret spots?"

The adults all gasped, and the three children sunk deeper into the folds of Miyu's dress.

"I-I don't think so," Flame said. "And if she did, she wouldn't go there ... not to go and look for the others."

"Have you checked your village yet?" Ryouken asked. "The library, the houses—is it possible she just went for a dander?"

"In a time when two kids have already been abducted?" Kiku scoffed. "She's missing from the village and  _ someone  _ took her."

Yuusaku felt his mind begin to spin. In Link Vrains, he could mute the world so that chats, IMs, and even other player's voices wouldn't interrupt his train of thought. Here, he could only block out so much. Each time he tried to think about the plan—the near-perfect plan they'd concocted just last night—his mind short-circuited. Hurt itself in its confusion. He pressed his hands into his eyes, willing everyone to shut up for two whole seconds so he could think.

A hand settled on his shoulder. Pressed into his muscle. Whether it was a pressure point or Ryouken's hands were just that soothing, Yuusaku relaxed all the same. Think. If Aqua went missing this morning, then she wouldn't reappear until the following evening; thirty-six hours or so later, she would wind up unconscious on the beach. Until then, she would be missing. In all likelihood, she wasn't taken from her bed at night, meaning whoever took her would still be abducting her.

Think. They would need to take a kid somewhere. Would she be unconscious before then? Most likely, unless they wanted her to make noise. But regardless, they'd want to keep away from the public, so places without people. Places no one would be able to search thoroughly.

The forest?

The other forest?

The beach?

"We need to split up," Yuusaku said. "Ryouken, Spectre, the forests. Go out to the shacks and see what you can find. Any footprints, any clues that someone might have been there, be it Aqua or a stranger. Be on guard. Listen for any strange noises: machines, voices, anything that shouldn't be in the forest. I'll go to the beach, to where the other children have wound up like last time. If children have been found on the beach, maybe they go there too."

"Shacks?" Miyu said. "What about those?"

Yuusaku turned to them. "If you want to help find your child, you'll come with us. The more of us out looking, the greater chance we'll see her."

"I agree. You shouldn’t be alone," Takeru said. "There's three of us, so we'll each go with one of you. I think it's only fair; after all, Aqua is one of our own children."

The more eyes, the better. He had planned on having the villagers come out to the beach with him, but if they wanted to go out to the forest ... He hated to admit it, but Takeru's idea was sound. The difficult part would be having Ryouken or Spectre team up with anyone, but that wasn't anyone's fault but their own.

Miyu pushed the three children towards the house. "Stay put, all right? Promise me this."

Yuusaku wouldn't have believed a single word from their mouths.

"All right?" Miyu rubbed at her eyes, then knelt down to them. "You can keep Lightning and Earth safe until we get back—with Aqua."

None of the children said a word, and they walked solemnly into Miyu's house, locking the door behind them. Miyu stood and brushed off her knees. All traces of sorrow were gone when she turned around to face them, and she glanced at each of them. "So who goes with whom?"

Yuusaku could see the gears churning in everyone's heads. "Takeru?" he asked. "Would you come with me to the beach?"

Takeru looked like he'd much prefer going with Ryouken, but he agreed with a grumble. They wasted no time heading on; the plan had already been determined and they needn't dawdle waiting for the others to sort themselves into groups. Just before he left, Yuusaku pecked Ryouken on the cheek.

"Be safe," Ryouken told him.

Then he headed off to the beach, Takeru quick on his heels.

The beach was empty save for the tech-junk, some of it floating in the water and other pieces scattered along the shore. He remembered having to walk to find any of it, but the tide—as still as it appeared—seemed to have brushed the tech further down the shore. Takeru's breath caught in his throat as they stepped into the sand, and his footsteps slowed.

"That's not what hurt her," Yuusaku said, moving on. He kept his ears pricked for any footsteps, his eyes searching the edges of the forests in case someone darted out.

Takeru huffed loudly. "Well all this didn't start happening until you came here."

"I apologise for my boyfriend's behaviour," he said. "We only meant to come to visit, to get away from the city life. We never meant to get caught up in this, but frankly—" He spun round, catching Takeru's uneasy steps on the beach. "I wouldn't have been able to ignore this. I'm not going to sit around on my vacation while children disappear. None of this is our fault, but our involvement is only because I can't sit aside and watch this happen."

Takeru's steps slowed.

"I want to help your village," Yuusaku said. "That's all."

Takeru's shoulder rose up to his earlobes and sunk back down towards his knees, like his body was inflating and deflating to the rhythm of his tension. In the end, he slumped forward and tilted his eyes to the floor. "I apologise too then."

"Now eyes up."

Takeru lifted his chin, fire dancing in his irises. Yuusaku felt the presence of a great, fiery dragon within Takeru's soul.

If he were on better terms with Takeru, he could have suggested they go left and right. But not only did Takeru seem uneasy about being on the beach itself, it was unlikely he'd want to split up. Takeru didn't trust him that much. So Yuusaku headed up the shore. At the very least, he could put one of his plans in motion and figure out just how the tech was floating down the shore. Most of the debris had pushed further up the coast. He couldn't see any dangling wires or floating devices along the water, and in fact, the sea was as still as a cup of water. No current, no waves. He squinted to see further down the sea, and his eyes widened.

"Aqua!"

There she was, walking along the still water with hardly a ripple dotting her steps. Nevermind how she was walking on water or how she'd gotten out there—Yuusaku saw her and jumped into the water. He coughed at the first chill—this was the off-season for swimming—and his jaw and muscles clenched from the cold. Awkwardly, he kicked his feet from side to side, and pushed forward in the water.

A splash echoed behind him, and then came Takeru's voice: "Aqua! Aqua, here! Here!"

She didn't turn her head or even bat an eye, continuing to walk along the water.

Yuusaku pushed forward, kicking with all his might. Salty water stung his eyes and lips, and his stomach flip-flopped. How could she—

His leg hit solid metal. Yuusaku blinked and pressed a hand in front of him. There was something  _ in  _ the water, just below the surface so that no one could see it from the shore, but that, if one walked across it, they would appear standing above the water. He heaved himself onto the platform. There were no nails beneath his hands, only long, silver sheets that he could see through the water.

"Wha—" Takeru gaped.

Yuusaku dashed forward.

Aqua was closer now, wandering in the same, slow gait across the platform. Yuusaku ran through every course of action in his mind, but when he saw her, his first instinct was only to knock her away. He grabbed her arm and tugged her into his chest. She moved like a floppy, cloth doll, tumbling into his lap. Her eyes rolled closed.

"Aqua." He patted her shoulder and gently pinched her arm. "Aqua."

Takeru flopped down next to him and in one swift movement had Aqua in his arms, her head nestled against his chest. Her blue hair had come undone from its ponytails and swept out like a cape around her. Yet not a single injury marred her. A healthy pink hue glowed around her cheeks, and she had felt warm despite being out in the cold in nothing but jeans and a t-shirt. She should have been shivering, teeth chattering—just like the two of them, frozen from their swim in the ocean—but she looked as peaceful as an angel lying in Takeru's arms.

"Aqua!" Takeru said, tapping her cheeks with the back of his hand. "Aqua, wake—"

She coughed and turned her head to the side. Takeru hoisted her up, but her breathing slowed and her blue eyes rolled open. "Mister ... Takeru," she said, blinking at him.

Takeru only gave her a second to come to before he pulled her into a tight hug. "You're safe! We found you Aqua, you're safe."

Yuusaku shuffled back to give the two of them space to rejoice. He felt like he was intruding on a rather personal moment, and while the sight of Takeru's joy over seeing the child lifted his spirits, he felt like the downer of the group as his mind spun with new theories. Had all the children come out here to this strange, metal shelf? And how? None of them had mentioned the beach in their stories of favourite hiding places. None of the children ever swam; they stayed on the beach looking for treasure.

He pressed a hand to the metal floor. It was warm, and he noted that the water here  _ did  _ feel slightly warmer than the sub-zero temperatures closer to shore.

He patted his side for his duel disk, looking for service out here. But he'd left it at the inn in all his panic.

"Yuusaku." Takeru shook his shoulder. "We should get out of here and ..." He swallowed, eyes flickering towards the metal ground. "Take a look at this another time."

A tickling fear in the back of his mind worried that this strange land would be gone if they ever searched for it again, but he knew that sitting in wet clothes and chilled water was a recipe to fall ill, and they'd need to head back with the group.

Wherever Aqua had wandered onto this path, they couldn't find the trail again. She hadn't swam to the shelf, but when they searched for an extended path out to the shore, they couldn't find it. In the end, all three of them had to swim to land; waiting for the others to find them, and then to bring the rowboat out to the shelf, would take far too long and only prolong their shivering. Yuusaku dreaded the swim back, and when they made it back onto the sandy coast, all three of them felt like they'd swam through the Arctic Sea.

He had never been more grateful to see Spectre and Ryouken. Kiku and Miyu came too, their eyes widening at the sight of the three of them wet and dripping. Kiku and Miyu took Aqua at once, slipping off their shawls and jackets, any loose clothing they could. They stripped her of her wet clothes and wrapped her up as warmly as possible. Then Miyu, like a hero on a mission, took off with her into the house.

Kiku had embraced Takeru despite his protests, and loudly she told him, "Out of these clothes before you catch your death."

Takeru tried to wriggle from her grip, shaky limbs flailing. "I should tell you—"

"After your ass is in bed," Kiku said, and pushed him towards the cafe. "And you too, Yuusaku—there's a spare bed we have, and you won't be dying of hypothermia on us either."

He opened his mouth to decline, knowing that at least there was a bed for him at the inn—but Ryouken gave him a strong push forward to get his achy, shaky limbs moving. A thick jacket fell around his shoulders, and through the chilled fabric of his own t-shirt and jacket he felt a tingle of warmth. He could hear chattering, and dazedly he realised it as his own teeth.

When he moved, he felt like he was walking through jelly, and both Ryouken and Spectre had to hold his elbows to keep him walking in a straight line. Yuusaku let himself be guided into the cafe where the temperature burned his skin and the lights assaulted his vision. He'd never known the full layout of the cafe and always thought the place a bit of a mystery, but past the tables and chairs, and off to the right, was a narrow hallway with three doors. Kiku headed up the second which turned out to be a staircase, and pointed to the third door.

"Spare room is there, take your time. I'll just be upstairs."

The third room was a bedroom, nicely decorated for it being a spare too. Curtains hung round a sturdy four-poster, and sheets were thick, blue, and inviting. A little dresser and mirror were pushed into one corner, and still the room had space for them to walk around. Yet Spectre hung back in the doorway, looking far too pleased with the situation.

"I doubt I'll be needed here," he said, a coy smirk stretching his thin cheeks.

"Correct," Ryouken said and closed the door after him.

Yuusaku sunk down to the floor. Adrenaline was leaking from him now, and all the anxiety and panic he'd experienced out on the metal shelf had been replaced by bone-deep exhaustion.

"Out of these clothes," Yuusaku said blearily, tugging at his shirt.

"I know how to treat hypothermia," Ryouken said. He pulled off the jackets that they'd thrown atop him, followed by Yuusaku's own soaked clothing. Ryouken had his lip tightly pinched between his teeth and his eyes focused as he worked out the buttons and zippers. Yuusaku held back another tight shiver when his skin first felt the chill in the room. Screw the heat, every part of this house was freezing.

Once his clothes were off, Ryouken hoisted him up towards the bed. How he'd walked from the beach to the cafe, he wasn't sure, but his legs refused to budge, and so Ryouken had to half-carry half-drag him onto the mattress. Distantly, he remembered learning that one shouldn't move too much in cases of hypothermia. So he let Ryouken guide him under the covers and tuck them under his body and chin. Then came another blanket that had been folded at the foot of the bed. Ryouken slipped it over him too.

"Hot," he breathed out. The blankets felt sweltering and itchy over his skin, and though he couldn't wriggle, he wished he could shuffle a bit to rub out the tingling feeling over his arms, chest, and neck.

"No, you're just cold," Ryouken said. He paused. "Do I go ..."

"Here." Ryouken wouldn't keep him warm, but he kept shifting, clenching and unclenching his hands. Powerlessness didn't suit him. Not being in control, feeling guilty, wishing he could do more.

Ryouken slipped next to him, settling against the layers of blankets. Yuusaku could still feel an extra zap of warmth from the body next to him, and he nestled closer; this patch of warmth he wanted to be as close to as possible.

"How do I tell if you don't have hypothermia?"

Yuusaku breathed out a laugh. "I think ... I'm just cold."

"Is that a lie?"

Hypothermia would have felt much, much worse. The shivering and teeth-chattering were normal symptoms of just plain being cold, and he couldn't feel his heart racing or his lungs forcing out breath after breath. He was much more worried about Aqua.

Slowly, he let himself fall back and his eyes rolled closed.

"Are you allowed to sleep?"

"I'm just resting."

"Mhm." Ryouken poked his cheek with a finger, then left his hand cupping the side of his face.

"I can tell you about the case," he said.

"When you're better."

"I'm better now—and resting, not sleeping."

He swallowed back a chuckle when Ryouken sighed and turned towards him. The fear was still there, glowing across his face like a haunted visage. Yuusaku held back a shiver, but he saw Ryouken shiver too and pull himself closer.

"You still look pale."

Yuusaku sighed. "It won't be automatic. Let me tell you about the case."

"If you must."

And so he told him about the metal plates under the water's surface, just out of view from the shore. He explained that at one point Aqua had been  _ walking  _ out to those plates, and that when he and Takeru had tried that same tactic, they could only find the edge of the shelf plummeting into the freezing waters. He told him about the feel of the metal and how there were no openings anywhere, but that it was warm to the touch, he thought, or maybe that was the cold kicking in. He tried to spill the words as quickly as he could in case he forgot anything, and he kept feeling like he had, like there was more to share, but Ryouken listened eagerly and patiently for him to finish.

"Do you think that shelf might disappear?"

"Yes."

"How?" It wasn't a challenge, but Yuusaku wracked his dozy mind. How would something so large move away? Could he have been standing on the top of a boat, or some other device?

Ryouken moved on. "How sure are you that the metal was warm?"

"... pretty sure," he said after a moment. If it was the hypothermia, he should have felt warm coming out of the water, he imagined. But being on the metal shelf, or whatever it was, had felt like he was in hot bath water, and that wouldn't have come from anything but something heating the sea.

"Then someone beneath the metal was heating it."

"A boat," he said, and then, "An engine." Something with power, and certainly not something that belonged in an isolated town. If Takeru hadn't been worrying over Aqua, Yuusaku was sure he would have heard all manner of fraught cries. "The kid had been going to it."

"Willingly?"

He wracked his brain to remember. She'd been awake, he thought. "I don't know," he said, rubbing at his head.

Ryouken's hand slipped up and under his jaw, massaging his skin.

Yuusaku twisted away. "Hurts. Your hand ... is hot."

Ryouken settled it over the blankets on his chest. "We'll have to ask the kid then just what happened."

"She might not remember it," he said, and winced as his face pulled back into a yawn. He shook himself away, and paused when he caught sight of Ryouken rising from the bed and smoothing the covers around him. "Where're you going?"

"A hot drink might do you good. I'll pass this news on to Spectre too."

Yuusaku dipped his head and settled into the covers. Yet by the time Ryouken should have returned, he'd long since fallen asleep, tucked into layers of blankets and snuggled against the hoodie Ryouken had nestled between them.

* * *

By the time the sun switched corners of the world and the sky was fading away to the starry scape, he was feeling warmer and well-rested. Ryouken stayed in the room for the entire time, only leaving to brew cups of tea or bring him bread and brothy soup. Spectre came in from time to time, once with a stack of books for him to peruse through, and another time with a stack of playing cards. They played blackjack and skip on the bed until Yuusaku could feel his eyes rolling back into his head. He was tired most of all—the chill went away after the first hour or two, but he felt like he could have slept the entire day away.

When he was awake, he could hear Kiku bustling around in the upstairs room. Takeru would let out the occasional "Hey!", to which she would smartly reply, "Back into bed! You need  _ rest." _

But when evening came, he was feeling well enough to wander out, and more importantly, to speak with Kiku. Miyu had told them that Aqua needed to rest tonight; she had spiked a fever and was too lucid to speak, much less answer questions. He hadn't missed the way Ryouken had ground his teeth together, but Yuusaku knew that answers would take time. He could speak to Kiku first.

He shuffled to the side of the bed and slipped his legs under the covers. The first bit of weight had him sucking in a tight breath, but he took the steps slowly and carefully.

"Here." Ryouken reached out an arm to steady him, and Yuusaku leant into the support. Ryouken was a solid, stable presence, and he caught his breath while holding on Ryouken's firm shoulder. "You know, we could just call Kiku down here. This is her house, after all."

"I want to tell Takeru too."

He didn't miss the way Ryouken's jaw clenched.

"He needs to know too."

"Would he even listen?"

"He would." He pressed a hand to Ryouken's jaw, drawing his gaze closer. "It's easy to brush off these peoples' concerns when they're scared of something as harmless as wires and batteries, but they want to keep each other safe. We shouldn't make enemies with people who want to help us, and who need our help."

Ryouken huffed.

"At the very least, be civil."

"I will."

Spectre appeared in the door, swinging an empty mug around his finger. "So," he drawled, "do all private talks start with smoldering looks?"

With Ryouken acting as a stabilising source for him, he couldn't move, and yet his glare still managed to push Spectre back a step. He kept on smiling in the doorway, the cup twirling round and round on his slim pointer finger.

"Let's go," Ryouken said, giving him a slight nudge towards the door.

Yuusaku followed them out the door. On the stairs, he kept one hand braced on Ryouken and the other on the handrail, and each step felt like a laborious challenge. His joints felt stiff and rusty, like ungreased engine parts, and even a movement as simple as bending a knee felt like a strain. Ryouken stayed by his side the entire time, and at the top of the stairs, Spectre lent a hand to help him up the final step.

"Should you really be out of bed?" he asked.

Yuusaku slipped aside and headed down the hallway. On solid ground, it was easier to move. The second floor reminded him of the upstairs at the inn: cramped and dim, but somehow warm and inviting. There were two rooms—a bedroom and a bathroom—of impressive size and shape; this floor must have been as large as the downstairs, and with only two rooms, they had made use of the space. Inside the bedroom was a sturdy four-poster bed made of solid cherry wood and draped with thick, red curtains. There was a writing desk and a boudoir, a little seating area comprised of two armchairs around a table; and at the back, he spotted a heavily-chest armoire with a tall mirror. It looked more like an entire, open-plan house save for the kitchen, and he found himself admiring the detail of it all. For a village so isolated and behind on technological times, there was artistry to the room.

Takeru was tucked into the bed, propped up with several plump pillows and wearing warm attire. A light smudge of pink dusted the bridge of his nose, yet whether from a mild fever or simply being warm he couldn't discern. He looked lively though, eyes glimmering and a small smile set of his face, only disappearing when Ryouken and Spectre stepped into the room. At his side was Kiku, fussing at the blankets around Takeru's shoulders and the candles lit around the room.

"Yuusaku." She jumped when he arrived and motioned to one of the chairs. "Have a seat."

He wanted to decline, but the opportunity to sit was strong, and Ryouken probably wouldn't have let him stand anyways. He eased down into one of the armchairs, surprised to find it more cushioned than stiff then it appeared. This would pose a problem when trying to stay awake.

"Are you on the mend?" Kiku asked. She leaned close to see him properly, and a hand appeared to touch him.

Yuusaku leant back, throwing up a hand. "Fine."

As if she hadn't realised what she was doing, Kiku jumped back. "Sorry, I should have asked first—I just—" She mussed the skirts round her waist, then took a deep breath. "Apologies. I'm glad to hear you're doing better."

Takeru smiled at him and it pinched the apples of his cheeks. "It was Yuusaku who saved Aqua, after all. He saw her first."

The praise churned his stomach, and Yuusaku had to avert his gaze to the floor. He had seen her first, and jumped into the water, but if it was him alone and not Takeru too, he might not have been able to bring her back to shore.

"Thank you." Kiku crouched down before him, and though her hands itched to reach out, she kept them in her lap. "If we'd lost one more, I don't know ... I don't know what we'd do."

"You're welcome."

A heavy silence fell over the room, as if no one knew quite where to begin with the story. Could they just jump into the details after such praise? How could he even begin to tell them about the metal shelf under the water? Or the way Aqua hadn't seemed like herself? Each time a question rose in his mind, he realised that he'd have to explain much more to Kiku and Takeru about technology and that would only rile their anxieties.

Fortunately, Spectre was among them.

"So what happened out in the water?" he asked.

He was going to have to tell them anyways.

As best as he could, Yuusaku relayed what he saw out in the water, from the metal shelf to Aqua herself, to the strange occurrence that that metal shelf was and how it might have been connected to the floating tech-junk on the coast. Takeru jumped in to validate each of his statements, and rather than cut in too, Kiku listened earnestly. He'd expected a much less civil conversation, rife with insults and accusations, but Kiku and Takeru took the news well. Only Ryouken seemed stiff, lips pressed together as Yuusaku explained how the water was warm.

"You think there was ... an engine?"

"Something with power," Yuusaku said.

"Do you think it's leaching out into the water? Were we safe to be in it?"

"Of course." Ryouken scoffed. "Or would you have rather sat back on the shore and watched Yuusaku swim out to your lost child?"

Takeru growled, sparks flashing in his bright eyes. "Not on my life, but I think it would be wise to know if any of us that ventured out into the water were  _ poisoned." _

"You're just cold," Spectre said, smothering a chuckle into his fist. "I didn't know that was a new sensation for you."

"Enough," Yuusaku cut in. He pressed a hand against Ryouken's leg to still him. "There is nothing in the water that would hurt anyone. But if there is an engine beneath the ocean, perhaps something is down there. Have you ever been out on the water before?"

"We go fishing in the warmer months," Kiku said, "but that hasn't happened in a few months, I'd say. It's been far too cold to any of us adults to venture out onto the shore, and only the kids have the strength to be out on the beach in subzero weather. And ... and there wasn't anything like that in the warmer weather. Or the wires on the beach. This is all new."

"What about those shacks?" Ryouken asked. "I went with your associate and she didn't know of them. Did you?"

Kiku nodded. "I can't remember when I last saw those ... maybe a year ago. Maybe less or more." She pressed a hand to her mouth, gaze shifting to Takeru. "They've been there for a while, haven't they?"

Takeru meshed his brows together. Whatever deep thought he was trying to conjure only made him look ill.

"Y'all didn't see the stranger either," Spectre said. "He's been around as long as I've been coming, and I'm pretty sure he built those places. But the kids haven't either, I don't think." He paused. "You ever kicked someone out of your village? Or someone left to, I don't know, broaden their horizons?"

"This isn't a fairy tale." Ryouken, ever the pessimist.

Yuusaku had to agree with him though: no one else had mentioned the stranger, and while Spectre's clue certainly seemed odd, he wasn't sure what to do with it. Did this stranger have anything to do with the child abductions? Had Spectre even seen someone? He kept his thoughts tucked away, but across the room, Kiku and Takeru looked like they might have seen a ghost in this very room.

"Kiku." The sound of her name snapped his gaze back up to him, and Yuusaku jumped at just how strong her stare could be. "You told me, back when Aqua first went missing, that there was something you wanted to say, but couldn't back at the time. What was it?"

"Oh." Her mouth, no larger than a blueberry, pinched closed. "Well, see ... someone else has been missing. I don't know if Miyu has realised it yet, or the children, or really anyone else in this town, but that might be because it's really my responsibility."

Takeru let out a little 'oh' too, as if this news hadn't occurred to him either. Yuusaku found himself leaning closer as Kiku spoke.

"There's a man who comes to check on our village once a month. He's a liaison between us and another town, and he only ever asks how we're down, if we need any materials; like an advisor of sorts, but hands-off enough that I hardly ever leave matters with him. Well, just before you guys showed up was when he was supposed to come round. I had prepared myself to tell him that Lightning had been taken from us, and later returned unconscious, but then ... he never showed up. And then you two showed up, and later on that third one there—"

"The name's Spectre—"

"And I thought something might have happened to our liaison."

Ryouken turned to Spectre. "Is that who you saw?"

"Beats me." Spectre raised his shoulders. "I never saw the guy."

"And you?" Ryouken turned to Kiku. He looked like an interrogator ready to get down to business, and as blunt as he could be, Yuusaku appreciated the direct tone. They were pulling at loose straws; someone needed to draw their senses back together.

"Well, I never talk to him, you see."

A pause. A blink.

"What?"

"He picks up our monthly letter," Kiku continued. "I leave a letter on the desk in the library, and he collects it and heads home."

"And you never figured you should see his face?"

Kiku huffed, crossing her arms round her chest. "Your berating isn't necessary, traveller. I don't mistrust those that are taking care of me and my village, and so no, I never considered to learn the stranger's identity. If someone's doing a favour for you, why would you go out of your way to judge them?"

Takeru shrugged. "I knew the guy existed too—just didn't know he came monthly, that's all. But I can speak for myself and Miyu too: this wasn't a stranger setting out to hurt any of us, and their arrival wasn't quite like yours. They've been coming for years now."

Yuusaku rubbed at his chin. This felt an awful lot like a dead end. But then, as realisation dawned on him, he remembered a detail: the  _ adults  _ didn't know about the stranger's identity. Most likely the children would have—they were nosy beings, always snooping around the town. Next to him, Ryouken seemed to have realised the same thought, and his lips curled in a light smile.

"Very well," Ryouken said.

"We didn't mean to judge," Yuusaku added, just for politeness' sake. These people were easily offended, and Ryouken and Spectre weren't making matters easier.

Takeru tapped at one of the posts on his bed to gather their attentions. His blush looked much more like a rising fever, and yet he spoke clearly. "Do you think all the children are going out to the metal thing under the sea?"

It was where Aqua had been going. If he had been thinking clearly and not so worried about her well-being, he would have seen where she'd travelled and followed her. But morality clawed at his heart. Danger. Fear. He couldn't just let a kid wander into trouble for the sake of solving the mystery, and Takeru wouldn't have let him either.

"I don't know," Yuusaku said at last. "But tomorrow, I'll head out."

"Shouldn't you rest?" Kiku said. She sounded far too much like Ryouken, and Yuusaku’s twisted his hand into his partner's. Ryouken blushed.

"I'll be fine." To prove it, he rose—and reached out for Ryouken's arm when he stumbled on shaky, brittle legs. He clenched his jaw against the tremors that rocked through him, and distantly he wondered if he had a climbing fever too. He still felt cold. Chilled.

Ryouken steadied him, wrapping a strong arm behind his back and using his entire side as a standing frame to keep him upright. Even if he passed out, he wouldn't fall to the ground. Underneath Ryouken's tall frame was tight muscle: Yuusaku's chest, pressed to Ryouken's breast, could feel the drum-like thrum of his pulse and the way the muscles contracted together. A solid presence. An unwavering heart.

Without meaning to, the meeting had adjourned. Kiku returned to Takeru's bedside, brushing his bangs from his sweaty forehead and wetting a towel. The trio headed back out of the room and down the hall, but as Yuusaku leaned for the doorway out of the inn, Ryouken tugged him back to the bedroom.

"We have a room," Yuusaku said.

Ryouken shrugged. "Spectre can have the bed for the night."

"How generous."

"And we'll stay here. You shouldn't be out in the night anyways."

He felt perfectly fine, but his jaw locked together and his teeth chattered once, and it was all it took for Ryouken to sweep him back into the bedroom and deposit him on the bed. Like liquid, they slipped under the covers and melted together. Ryouken's hair felt as silky-soft as the bed sheets, and with his eyes closed, he couldn't tell what he was stroking, what he'd pushed his face into.

A cool hand settled over his brow.

"Tomorrow, we'll go looking."

"Promise."

A kiss on the tip of his nose. "How stubborn you are."


	7. Chapter 7

The helmet was back over his head. Its weight pushed his head down to his shoulders, and his entire body towards the floor. Every ounce of his energy went to keeping him standing on his two quivering legs, knees knocking together. Wherever he was, it was cold. Colder than the room should have been. And darker too, and though the helmet was turned on and buzzing in his ears, all he could see were hazy shadows. Carefully, he tilted his head to the side.

Too much.

He tipped over, knocking into a wall around him. He saw stars in his vision—and then blue light, flickering all around him. Yuusaku shivered and pulled himself away from the wall, but whatever he had hit, whatever button he had pressed, had started something awful. Distorted images in terrible blues and greys flooded his vision, and though he wasn't even sure what he should have been looking at, panic filled his lungs. He couldn't breathe. No matter how hazy his vision became, he could clearly  _ feel  _ the world around him.

Bright lights flickered in the helmet. A strap hooked under his chin. Yuusaku jumped, clawing at his neck. No, the helmet never attached itself to him, he could always take it off—

But it held tight to his head. He slammed himself against the wall; if his own hands couldn't remove it, perhaps some brute force would crack it open like an egg tipped over the wall. It hurt, but the helmet didn't budge, only becoming tighter.

Panic rose. He couldn't breathe, even though the strap shouldn't have been that tight. Even though he was able to breathe before. He coughed and slammed against the wall once more. The colours flickered away like a glitching computer screen, and then he was staring into a computer screen—

No, a window.

A window through which he could see Ryouken, hands pressed to the glass, nose and lips too, banging for him. He couldn't hear a word, but he could imagine what Ryouken was shouting to him. Help. Stop. Run away. Yuusaku.

He hit the window full force, banging his hands on the glass. His throat was clenched too tightly to speak, so he could only hit the window and hope Ryouken could understand. The heavy helmet sagged his head to the side, and his vision began to swim with cloudy images. One minute, he could see Ryouken pleading for him, and the next, he could see his own reflection staring back at him: his eyes, wide and frightened and bloodshot, staring through the helmet and looking right back into him.

A scream tore through his throat and he tumbled back, back—

Into another room, water lapping at his heels. He kicked himself away, but there were mirrors and screens and wires everywhere. The wires snaked across the slippery floor and hooked themselves round his limbs, tight enough that he couldn't even move, only writhe weakly on the floor. He kicked and screamed regardless. The helmet was still on his head, and through the screen he could see stars—the roof? The sky? He'd never been to such a place before in his life, and he remembered Ryouken on the other side of the glass—

"Ryouken!"

The name tore from his lips, and he cried it out, again and again. There was no window, no mirror. The helmet was still on his head, the water filling his lungs, covering his head.

He fell off the bed with a wretch, spitting watery liquid on the floor. He coughed and coughed, dragging air into his lungs. Something shuffled above him and he screamed out, "Don't touch me!" and "Back away!" but the voice didn't sound like it belonged to him. He crouched on the ground, panting, spitting. The floor still had stars on it, and his mind seemed as incorrectly wired as a computer by a trainee technician. Where his hands were placed felt like uneven flooring, and when he dared raise his head, his stomach lurched. No moving. No thinking.

There was no water here. No helmet over his head.

He clenched and unclenched his hands. Reacquainted himself with the floor, the cool feeling on his cheeks and body. Sweat clung to his back and glued his shirt to his shaking body. Weakly, he rubbed a hand over his face.

When he lifted his head, his first sight was a glass of water in front of him. He knocked the glass away, spilling water on the floor. Ryouken sat just beyond the cup. Water soaked into the bottom of his trouser leg, but he seemed more interested in staring back at him, one hand cupped in his cheek.

Yuusaku ground his teeth together. Forced himself to see clearly. Forced himself to take another deep breath.

"It ... would never happen," he said through his teeth.

Ryouken blinked.

"That dream ... would never happen."

"You're right," Ryouken said, inching closer. "It would never happen."

Yuusaku pulled his body up to hang like a dirty jacket on the corner of the bedpost. He swiped a shaky hand over his face, then again over his forehead. He rubbed at his eyes and hair, but he still felt the lingering ghost of the helmet over his head and the water soaking his body. A shower would have been heavenly if only he could stand and walk, but he felt his heart racing again, and he willed himself not to cry out. It was just like before: the tremors, the nightmares, the horrible sensation. Someone had hooked his brain up to a supercomputer and plugged it full of disturbing nightmare fuel.

"Yuusaku." Ryouken sat in front of him, hands in his lap. "I'll bring you some coffee."

"Stay."

"All right."

He couldn't reach out, couldn't dare feel skin against his own flesh, but he kept his eyes on the corners of Ryouken's body. Focused on the way Ryouken breathed, the way he kept himself as still as an owl watching over the silent night. The creeping shadows raced back into the corners of the room, and drip-drops of sunlight glowed across the floor. With each new ray of light, the tightness in his chest eased. The white noise in his head cleared, and he heard someone upstairs shuffling around. No one was at the door. No one was around—no one but Ryouken, sitting a couple feet away from him.

He hadn't moved an inch.

"Just a dream," Yuusaku said, and pushed himself up onto his limbs.

"Coffee now?" Ryouken said. "Do you want me to get it for you?"

"Yes." His eyes slid down to the vomit all over the floor, and Ryouken called out, "I'll get that too, just take it easy."

Yuusaku shook his head. Now that he was back in the correct world, his mind was spinning and his hands itching to do  _ anything.  _ He crouched down and, with a towel he found at the foot of the bed from when Ryouken had been wrapping him in whatever cloths he could find, scrubbed away the watery sick. He set it by the door to dispose of later, and by the time he was done, Ryouken returned with two steaming mugs of coffee and no one else in tow.

He held the cup in his shaking hands. The heat soothed his nerves, but the tremors would take a while longer to fade, and the churning unease would drag out through the rest of the day.

Ryouken hadn't said a word, sipping from his coffee mug with his eyes down at the creamy liquid. Milky coffee, so sugary-sweet that it should have been a dessert item.

"I didn't even have the right dream."

Ryouken hummed to himself.

"It was different, not worse, but ... no. It was worse." He shivered at the feeling of metal on his head, a screen in front of his eyes. Coffee sloshed inside his cup and he hastily set it back down before he remembered the way the water rose around him.

"I was underwater. With the helmet on, underwater. In that room, not even dueling, not even doing anything, but then I saw ..."  _ You.  _ "But it was just a dream. A dream." A dream that couldn't have happened to any of them. All the kids returned; they weren't being trapped away in that strange metal shelf, nor were they wearing helmets over their heads. That was him—just him, back at that testing facility that burned to the ground. That was  _ different. _

A hand touched his shoulder and guided him forward. Yuusaku took a stumbling step, but his head connected with Ryouken's shoulder first, pressing down into the firm muscle and rounded bone. He was all gangly limbs and spiked bones, but Ryouken was solid and yet somehow soft, and the bridge of his nose fit right against Ryouken's shoulder. Ryouken's hands never left his shoulder; he knew better than to touch his head or neck, sensitive spots at the best of times and downright panic-inducing after a nightmare.

"I'm not going to suggest we stay in," Ryouken began.

"But the quicker we figure this out, the better. Just ... give me ten minutes."

"Of course."

Ryouken never moved a muscle.

He never kept track of time either, but eventually Yuusaku felt his muscles begin to unwind a bit more, and the coffee he could see out of the corner of his eye had lost its hot steam curls on the rim. He eased himself back and stretched out his muscles, and then marched out of the room and to the shower.

When he returned, he was feeling more like himself, and was surprised to see that everyone was in the eating area of the cafe, crowded around several tables. Takeru had seen better days—pale faced except for the obvious fever across his cheeks—and Kiku looked fraught at him being there. Their concern only emphasised Spectre's lackadaisicalness as he spread out in one of the cosy armchairs nursing some white, frothy concoction between his spindly hands. He looked like he'd slept the best of them all.

"We were just deciding on a plan for today," Kiku said. "Not that some of us will be leaving the house in their condition."

Takeru scoffed. "I feel fine, just dizzy. It's not like I can't walk the twenty steps to—"

"To that lady's," Spectre finished.

"Miyu," Takeru cut in.

"Yes, her." Spectre grinned over the top of his cup.

Ryouken stepped forward, pushing another cup of black coffee into his hands. "The child is awake too."

Kiku crossed her arms over her chest. "You won't be interrogating her, now will you? That's the last thing that poor girl needs."

Yuusaku accepted the mug, holding it tightly between his hands. "We won't," he said, and an extra glance was thrown to Ryouken and Spectre for good measure. And he'd thought they were all on the same page this morning. It appeared that, while everyone had gathered to discuss the day's plans, no one had agreed upon any course of action.

Besides, what Aqua could share would only be half of the clues. After last night, he wanted to speak to one of the other children, either Ai or Windy, and ask them if they had ever seen any strangers venture round the neighbourhood. They would have much more information concerning that stranger than Aqua, who he suspected wouldn't be able to tell them much.

"How about some muffins for breakfast?" Kiku cut in. "To start off the day." Her gaze flickered to him, and Yuusaku wondered if she might have heard him this morning. He'd cried out something in his panic, and something more when he fell off the bed and onto the floor, but the single coherent thought he could remember was pressing his head to Ryouken's shoulder and sucking in the first proper breath of the morning.

Kiku bustled off to the kitchen and returned with three hefty muffins; she hadn't skimped on a single ingredient from the butter-coloured flour to the large chunks of chocolate poking through the top like mountains in a valley. Ryouken and Spectre each took theirs, but Yuusaku declined, feeling his stomach churn.

"We'll let you know if we find anything," Spectre said.

Ryouken grunted.

Then the three of them set out. The village was, as usual, quiet and mournful, and none of the children were seen scampering along the roads.

"Will we now?" Ryouken said aloud.

"Will we what?" Spectre's voice sing-songed through the village.

"Share our news? It's not like they'll believe us."

Yuusaku sighed through his nose. "We'll tell them what needs to be shared. Besides ..." He glanced down the road at the inn. "I think we should call Kusanagi and update him."

"Spectre can do that."

A blink.

Then Spectre, a bit shocked: "He can?"

"He can," Ryouken said with a decisive nod. "All three of us do not need to be present for the interrogation, and since you know where that shack is with the phone service, you can head out to it. Tell us if there are any kids snooping around where they shouldn't be too."

Spectre pursed his lips like he'd swallowed a lemon, but in the end, he shrugged. "Of course, dear Ryouken."

"Good." Ryouken nodded once more, then pointed back towards the inn. "Grab Yuusaku's duel disk and take it out to that shack. Contact Kusanagi Shouichi, the owner of Cafe Nagi. Tell him what has happened and that you're working with us; he'll listen."

"He should have reports for you too," Yuusaku said. "He was looking into people's comings and goings on the train via CCTV cameras, so ask him what he's uncovered too."

Spectre's grin widened. "And report back to you on the beach?"

Ryouken nodded. "If we're not at the cafe, come and find us."

Spectre gave them a flick of his fingers and a modest salute, and then marched off down the road. Yuusaku and Ryouken headed off to the side, to Miyu's quaint, quiet cottage. It was the closest building to the water, and out the window one could probably see the still waves and the mirror-like quality to the water. Yuusaku squinted to try and spot the metal shelf, but even if he were looking, he couldn't spot any inconsistencies on the surface. They'd have to go down later and investigate for themselves.

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of standing atop the strange device. The water, the heat on his skin—

He suppressed the next shiver and knocked on the door. To his surprise, it was Aqua herself who answered.

"Hello?"

Yuusaku blinked. He had imagined this situation  _ far  _ differently.

The door swung open further and Miyu appeared. She blinked at them, and then drew the door open in full. "Good morning. How are you feeling?"

"Better," Yuusaku said. His eyes slid down to Aqua. Had he not known she'd been walking on water out to some hidden metal contraption under the sea, he would have suspected she were a healthy, average child. She smiled warmly up at them, hair fixed in its typical twintails, and her blue dress glittered in the early sunshine.

Miyu followed his gaze. "Come on in."

He remembered Miyu's house from the first time they visited, and since then, it looked like her collection of plants had grown by an extra twenty pots. He and Ryouken weaved around ferns and trees, and ducked beneath hanging baskets spewing with wildflowers. There must have been a name for each of these plants, and no two flowers looked exactly alike, but when they were all jumbled together, Yuusaku saw only green leaves and stems.

Somewhere among the mess of ferns was a little couch and table that Miyu guided them towards. There was just enough room for both of them to sit, and he had to wonder if this was even a couch or just a large armchair. Before they could speak, Miyu shuffled away and disappeared into the ferns.

"She's bringing you tea," Aqua said, settling down on a little wooden chair he hadn't even seen in the room. The two, thin-leafed trees on either side of it acted like giant leaves a queen should have been cooled down with, and Aqua herself looked like royalty as she sipped from a delicate china teacup. She set it down on her lap and reached to the side for a small box. "Cookies?"

"We're fine," Ryouken said shortly.

Miyu returned with teacups, as delicate and ivory-white as Kiku’s mugs were hefty and kitsch. Yuusaku held it in his fingertips, worried that even the slightest pressure would shatter it across the floor.

"Well then?" Miyu settled back into her chair, legs crossed at the ankles.

Hostility reared itself into the group like a wild boar, ready to knock aside the fragile peace. Only Aqua seemed content, sitting among the adults like she was the lucky kid who got to be at the grown-up table.

"We've come to check up on Aqua." Best to ease into the conversation, as much as he disliked beating around the bush. What gentle hospitality Miyu had begun with, she'd left it somewhere in the kitchen. She glared over the top of her teacup, mostly at Ryouken who left his tea untouched on the glass coffee table.

"Have you now?"

Ryouken cleared his throat.

Yuusaku tensed.

"Aqua," Ryouken began, civil but direct, "what do you remember from yesterday?"

Aqua kicked her feet out, then hastily brought them down and crossed at the ankles. "You mean why I was out in the water?"

"Do you remember that?"

"Miss Miyu told me ... that I'd walked out into the water."

Miyu took another sip from her cup. "She doesn't remember anything."

Aqua nodded solemnly. "Thank you for saving me, Yuusaku."

"It's fine." Disappointment lingered at the end of his words. If Miyu had already talked with Aqua, then she would have told her what happened while she was out on the water. Aqua probably didn't remember a thing—she just knew what Miyu had told her.

Ryouken folded his hands together, eyebrows drawn tight over his eyes. When he got down to business, he became a leader, a strategist—and Miyu looked like a mother bear protecting her cub, one hand drawn across Aqua and clenched tight round the furthest armrest. It didn't faze Ryouken in the slightest. He'd stood before far more menacing presences, and Yuusaku held his breath that Ryouken wouldn't  _ speak  _ to Miyu just like how Ryouken might speak to an overconfident businessworker.

"What about before you were on the water? What do you remember?"

Aqua blinked at him. "I was ... I was looking for Lightning."

Miyu blinked too, and her little, round mouth formed an 'o.' She even vocalised it too, drawing all but Ryouken out of their tense thoughts.

Ryouken pushed on. "Lightning? That kid upstairs."

"But Aqua, he came back to us—"

"No," she said, shaking her head back and forth. "He was at the beach. I told him to come back and not to play round with the wires because we were going to get in trouble, and then he ..." She pressed her lips together. "He ... he was out by the shore. I saw him."

"Hallucination," Ryouken murmured.

Miyu snapped her gaze upwards. "Enough of that."

"It couldn't be," Yuusaku said, raising a hand before Miyu could launch onto him too. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, and then tried again. "You don't remember walking on the water, do you? Or what was out there?"

"Miss Miyu said it was something bad."

"Miyu. A moment."

There was something else on his mind now.

Miyu looked thankful for the suggestion. She slid her hand off the armrest and guided Aqua down. "How about you check on Earth and Lightning, see if they need any blankets or water? I'll be up in a moment."

Aqua glanced round the adults in the room, but unlike the other children who may have whined and stayed behind, or hid round the corner and eavesdropped, she headed upstairs with soft footfalls. They heard the upstairs door close after her, and only once the living room had fallen quiet did Yuusaku dare speak up.

"It can't be a hallucination," he said, "because she only lost her memory past that point."

Miyu frowned. "So you're saying ... something happened to her on the beach?"

"Correct." He turned to Ryouken, who had his chin tucked into a hand, lost in his own thoughts. "That's not to say she saw Lightning, but that she saw someone out there that looked like him, and that told her to walk out onto the water."

"H-how did she even get out there?"

"I don't know," Yuusaku said, and he winced at the lie. It would take all morning and afternoon to explain to Miyu just what was out there. But she nodded solemnly and relaxed back in the chair, tracing her finger over the rim of her cup.

Ryouken eyed him, then turned his attention back to Miyu. "Did the girl tell you anything when she came to? Any names?"

Miyu shook her head. "She doesn't remember anything."

"That's fine." Yuusaku set his cup down, and flicked his head to Ryouken. They stood up and shuffled out, back through the maze of plants and ferns. He wasn't even sure where he should have been looking for the door, but it appeared out of the blue when he wandered forward, and his hand found the doorknob.

Miyu held her hands up to her chest. Defensively at first, but then wrung together like she might be praying or pleading. "I'm ... sorry about all this," she said, sounding out each word like she wasn't quite sure she herself was saying them.

Yuusaku blinked back at her. "That's fine."

He and Ryouken slipped out the door.

"Such comfort," Ryouken said, a devilish smile curled into the corner of his mouth.

"What would you have said back?" Yuusaku tapped a finger to his chest, then dragged his along his back and pushed Ryouken towards the ocean. "Come on, let's go find the kids."

Ryouken chuckled low in his throat. "You think we'll find one of the brats? Don't we run into them when we least expect them?"

"So we should go where we won't expect them?" The thought sounded both amusing and horrifying, and he left it open as he and Ryouken headed towards the beach. They told Spectre they would meet him down there anyways, and most likely if the children weren't wandering around the village, they'd be at the beach; as Ryouken had said, they were always where they shouldn't have been.

But down by the water, the only person on the shore was Spectre, crouched down by the sea. He had several pieces of technology in each hand: some wires, one of which was still attached to a keyboard mouse; and then some keyboard keys, chipped and cracked and hardly looking like they have been on a keyboard, but Yuusaku recognised the size and shape.

"Back already," he heard Ryouken mutter, and warning bells went off in his ears.

It should have taken Spectre longer. He didn't get to the point like him and Ryouken, and he probably talked Kusanagi's ear off before he remembered to ask about the CCTV cameras. Sweat slid down his back, and Yuusaku felt colder than he had even yesterday coming out of the water.

Spectre smiled and waved them over. "How goes it?"

Ryouken frowned. "What's the report?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" The duel disk on Spectre's wrist—his duel disk—glowed with a soft, blue light, but it didn't have any notifications on it.

"I couldn't get through to him. There's no service out there."

"There  _ was."  _ Ryouken pressed his lips together. "Did you—"

"Climb into that wormhole of a tunnel and call from there? Yes." Spectre raised a hand, and for a second he looked genuinely apologetic. "I believe you, Ryouken, but there's no  _ more  _ service out there. Someone must have shut it off. And yes"—he turned to Yuusaku before he could interrupt—"I checked the shack for the transmitter and it's gone."

"Did you see it yesterday?" Ryouken asked.

"Yes, when I was out looking."

"That gives us a time window then." Yuusaku felt a sliver of hope flutter in his chest. It wasn't much to work off of, but it was better than nothing. Someone took the device yesterday between the morning when Spectre looked and this morning when it was discovered as missing.

"You don't think one of those kids took it?" Spectre asked.

"Could have," Yuusaku said, but it felt odd to accuse them for this crime. They were rather frightened of the technology too, and as curious as they might have been, he couldn't see them  _ taking  _ it out of the shack. Taking it apart and leaving it scattered around maybe, but not relocating it. Besides, after Aqua's disappearance, he doubted any of them were brave enough to touch what was unfamiliar to them. The more he thought about the theory, the more he found evidence to disprove it.

"Couldn't have," he said after a moment.

Ryouken nodded with him. "And those villagers wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole either."

No, if someone disrupted it, then the weren't part of the village. The stranger, perhaps? He wanted to speak up, but it sounded like a wild guess more than an informed opinion.

"And what did you discover?" Spectre asked, crossing his arms over his chest. The chilly wind nipped at his arms, but past him, Yuusaku saw that the sea remained ever-still. He couldn't spot the metal shelf in the distance, but it had to be out there. It had to be.

He patted Ryouken's shoulder, cutting off his spiel about what they had learnt from Miyu and Aqua.

"It's still out there."

Ryouken followed his gaze out to the still water. Not even a dragonfly's foot marred its mirror-like state, and though it was impossible to tell what lay wait just under the surface, Yuusaku  _ knew  _ that whatever he'd stumbled upon was still sitting out there like a lurking predator.

Spectre clicked the mouse in his hand. "Yeah, and there's some path just down this way."

Yuusaku had to pause to register the words, and it gave Spectre enough time to walk over to a little piece of the beach that wasn't sand or tech-junk. It looked like tech-junk though: a metal-like slab stretching out from the water with only a finger-size piece poking out. But as he approached, he saw that it was like a metal arm, and wide enough that they could walk across. Spectre put his foot down just to show them how strong it was, and it held his weight without so much as a groan or creak.

"You found this?" Ryouken crouched down to see it more clearly, and Yuusaku followed. It was weaved together with craftsmanship that would only come from a skilled engineer or a well-programed machine, and it certainly wasn't the work of any of the villagers.

"Saw it when I got out to the beach. I was just taking a look at it when you came by."

This  _ had  _ to be what Aqua walked across.

Carefully, Yuusaku stepped onto it. Spectre put a foot on too, and Yuusaku braced himself for the metal to slip into the sea—yet it remained like solid land, taking both their weight and then Ryouken's as the three of them stood atop the sea. The water broke just around the metal, but from a distance it would be invisible to see.

They walked single-file. Yuusaku kept at the front, heart hammering in his chest. He kept his gaze forward and away from the water swirling at his feet. It was nowhere near his head; nowhere near him. He wasn't even stepping in it; his shoes were drier than bone and held tightly to the metal.

"How far did you swim out?" Spectre asked from the back.

"This ... far."

The arm stopped, attached now to the great metal shelf just yesterday he had stood upon. It looked like the same place: a single, flat, silver sheet without a single screw or scuff marring its surface. The water sat just above it, and yet it was such a thin layer than it didn't slip over the soles of his shoes and soak his socks. Ryouken and Spectre followed after him, noting the surface with hms and hahs.

Ryouken crouched down and pressed a hand to the surface. "Warm like you said. There must be something powerful under here."

Spectre glanced round. "You think this is a boat?"

"A submarine, perhaps." Ryouken traced his finger along the metal, as if he had found a seal between the sheet. "We should look for an entrance."

A shiver ran down Yuusaku's spine.

Spectre blazed on ahead. For someone so wiry, his footsteps  _ echoed  _ on the surface. Yuusaku then realised Spectre wasn't just walking—he was  _ stomping, _ looking for a hole in the ground or a loose board. Yuusaku tapped his own feet to the ground. He didn't want to find an opening here, not with the panic of going underwater clear in his mind, but there was only one way they were solving this new mystery.

Fortunately, they didn't even need to stomp or cut into the metal.

"Come here," Ryouken said, and beckoned them towards a clear opening in the metal. It was a perfectly square patch, rising just enough out of the water that the still seawater didn't slip into the opening. A miracle. They peered down the opening until Spectre pulled out Yuusaku's duel disk and shook it to alight the flashlight. Below was a single, rickety, metal ladder leading further down into the cavern.

"It goes deeper than I thought," Spectre said. He reached his hand further down, but no matter where the light hit, Yuusaku only saw grey walls.

"Water mustn't get in there either," Ryouken said. He patted the flashlight to the side to shine on one of the walls. "It's dry down there."

That was reassuring as they knelt in the water. The last thing Yuusaku wanted was to feel the water pressure rise all around him.

Spectre tucked the end of the duel disk into his shirt flap, securing it with one of the little clasps fastened around the disk's base. It kept the light facing forward and clear. Spectre put one foot into the opening, and then the other, and then began to descend down the ladder. By no means was he hurrying, but Yuusaku felt his chest tighten. They'd hadn't thought of a plan—-

Ryouken slipped into the tunnel next. He put both hands on the first rung, but then glanced back up at him.

Yuusaku set his hand atop Ryouken's. "I'll be right behind you."

With a satisfied nod, Ryouken headed down the ladder. Yuusaku turned around and followed after him, keeping his torso pressed against the rungs and his limbs locked tight. He had never been afraid of heights, not even when he first starting D-Boarding. His mind never leapt to fears of falling and splatting on the cement, or tipping over the edge and having nothing to cling onto. But as he descended, his heart hammered in his throat and his sweaty hands struggled to cling to the peeling rungs. The ladder felt as if thousands of hands had previously touched it, and all the grip had been rubbed away.

When they made it to the bottom, he was surprised not to see a civilisation waiting for him. They had wound up in a dark, metal chamber. The roof was endlessly long even though he remembered descending down a narrow path; at some point, the ladder must have dropped them into a larger room. The walls and floor were dry, and not a single wet footpath marred the slippery ground. The entire room felt like it should have been made of mirrors, and yet Yuusaku could hardly see his hand in front of his face.

Spectre's flashlight, still hanging off his shirt collar, illuminated a small patch of ground. He held it up and flicked it to each corner of the room, but other than the four walls and the ladder, the room was empty.

Ryouken pulled his own duel disk from his pocket and illuminated the flashlight. "We should stick together."

Spectre pointed his flashlight towards the ceiling. "How big was this thing anyways?"

Yuusaku pinched his lips together. He hadn't thought the metal shelf was so large, and he assumed it was going to be a narrow submarine under the water. But something this size didn't even feel mobile, and it was built as if it had been here for centuries. The village had only received electricity this year, and as far as he could remember in his high school history books, the northern tip hadn't been industrialised to quite the same degree as the mid- and southern sections. How then had this metal behemoth existed for so long, and without any news coverage? How could such a creation escape discovery even during its building?

As a group, they wandered forward, following each of their dim flashlights. The plan was to walk forward until they found the wall, which seemed smart in theory, but after five minutes Yuusaku began to question just how far this submarine extended.

"It has to end somewhere," Spectre said. His shoes clicked on the floor, and the resulting echo sounded distant and distorted, as if they were hearing the sound from several rooms over.

Sure enough, it ended after ten minutes of pacing. The sight of the metal wall was an odd relief that let the breath from his lungs, and they shined their lights over the surface.

"No door," he heard Ryouken mutter.

Spectre turned his head from side to side. "Well, at least we know this wall goes to another wall. We'll just follow it around."

Yuusaku hummed under his breath. He pressed his hand to the wall, expecting to feel cool metal. It was warm to the touch, and not metal, but a softer texture that he worried he might push a fingernail through.

The wall glowed bright blue.

Yuusaku leapt back as the screen flicked on, bringing up a basic, blue homepage that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The entire wall was a single screen, and from his spot on the ground, he felt as small as the cursor in the middle of the page. The light gave them view of not just the floor but the walls around them, darkened but looking vaguely glossy and computer-like.

"How'd you do that?" Spectre asked. He tapped his hand to the wall, and the cursor teleported to his finger.

"Just like that," Yuusaku said.

Ryouken pressed his hand to the screen, but with Spectre still holding onto the cursor, the page only flickered and glitched. "A computer down here ..."

"Is it connected to the internet?"

Yuusaku shook his head. "It's not connected to anything." Other than the cursor, the screen was dim blue. There was no taskbar or applications, and nothing that signified this screen could show anything but its basic homepage. Far ahead, he could see the other screens, and he wandered around the room and turned them on. Still the same blue homepage. Quickly their exciting discovery turned dull. No doors. No ways in or out of the room, and nothing that really could prove this place was anything beyond slightly odd and unnecessary.

Yuusaku turned back to the computer screen. If there was a screen, there wouldn't always be internet—but there was power down here. Somewhere. He tapped along the screen, listening for any hollow holes. Sure enough, the corners of the screen were hollow.

He hefted his own duel disk off his wrist. Bulkier than the others, it didn't have the fancy tech Ryouken's had or the AI-interface Spectre couldn't live without. It was an ancient model with only the primary functions: text and duel. Still, it had weight to it, and so he brought the corner of it down on the side of the screen, right where the hollowness had been. It broke through the polarised glass as if it were made of eggshells, shattering glass shards around his feet. He smashed the sharp corners to provide a larger opening, and by that point, Ryouken and Spectre had come running.

"Yuusaku—"

"This room has no doors," he explained, "but there are back paths."

Spectre grinned into his fist. He shone his light through the opening. Hundreds of wires were bound together in thick cords the size of metal pipes, and wound around in great spirals to make walls and floors. The wires all seemed to come from the computer screen, and he could imagine that each of the four screens had cords and wires behind it.

Ryouken pointed his own light into the opening. "Could anything even be back there? If there's no way in or out, who's to say that anything is even here?"

"We just might not have seen it," Yuusaku said. He stepped onto the first braided cord, and his fingers wound round the wires acting as walls and handholds. It was discombobulating not to hear his own footsteps, but his breaths raced even louder. Cold singed his cheeks, and as they headed deeper through the wires, he caught sight of his foggy breath blowing out in front of him.

"So how come there are computers down here?" Spectre asked. He sounded ages away, and Yuusaku strained his ears to hear him and Ryouken.

"A top-secret project."

"But not from SOL?"

Ryouken chuckled. "Or from us."

The sheer work it must have taken to construct this hidden room and its computers was too much for a single person, much less a small-scale organisation. Perhaps it had been SOL after all, and they had hidden their work far in the recesses or their computer files.

Spectre asked aloud, "So then how long do you think this has been around for?"

"Not long," Ryouken answered.

Yuusaku blinked. "This wasn't built overnight."

"But the technology to build this has been." Ryouken snaked his fingers through the cords, disentangling them for Yuusaku to see more clearly. They looked like plain old computer wires to him.

"These aren't the newest technology, but this wasn't the revolutionary materials that built computers either. It's somewhere in between, and that means that this was likely built just before VR took off—see, all these wires are meant to connect to those touch screens, but there are no holograms, no VR devices."

Yuusaku wound his fingers through the wires, surprised to find them heavier and more durable than the breakable consumerist crap that amounted to capitalist production. Whoever had built this device had been working on it after the beginning of computer technology but before VR—and thus, before SOL Technologies joined the mega-market. Still, a single person couldn't have built this alone.

"Did they abandon this project then?"

"Likely." Ryouken breathed through his nose, and his rubbed his arms pocked with goosebumps. Yuusaku shivered in return; the temperature had been dropping the further they travelled, and still they hadn't seen anything but wires and screens.

He jumped out of his skin when his foot landed in icy water. His body reacted at once, tumbling back into Ryouken, who caught him but still fell into Spectre. They collapsed in a heap, and Yuusaku scrambled to get his wet feet out of the water. He gasped again when the water rose up to him.

"Water." His words hisses between his lips. "There's water in the tunnel!"

Someone—either Ryouken or Spectre—grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Yuusaku whirled around, ignoring the tightness in his chest. He scooped up his fallen duel disk and held it down the channel. Water bubbled out of the opening—out of the descending tunnel, he now realised. He hadn't even noticed the slant in the ground, but sure enough the water was rising at a steady, visible pace that made his skin crawl.

"Back."

Ryouken and Spectre didn't need to be told twice. They hurried backwards, Yuusaku keeping hot onto their heels. No matter how fast he ran, he heard the water slosh around, growing more torrentous the faster they moved. A horn howled in his ear.

The entire tunnel groaned to the side.

"The boat's moving, shit!" Spectre called out.

"The water can't get into the computer room," Ryouken said. His voice had taken on that rough growl it did whenever he was frustrated or frightened, and anyone but Yuusaku would have mistaken the tone for indifference or discontent. But Ryouken was frightened of this too.

"You think we should really risk this?"

Yuusaku braced his hands on either side of him as the tunnel shifted once more. Water surged against his legs and he swallowed back a scream.

"It's rising!"

He hadn't kept track of how far they'd descended down the tunnel, but the way their frantic lights danced over the wire-covered tunnel made his head spin. Each step sloshed, and stepping on wet wires had him losing his balance more than recovering it. Ryouken glanced over his shoulder each time, but Yuusaku pushed him forward.

"Keep moving—"

Then, from the front of the tunnel: "Shit—no—"

And the brightest, cheeriest voice Yuusaku wished he'd never heard.

Ai's round face glowed in the little lamp he held in front of him.  "Oh hey, you snuck on too!"


	8. Chapter 8

There was no time to think about how or why Ai had followed them down. At the front of the line, Spectre snatched Ai's wrist and tugged him forward. Ai let out a squeal and a grunt, but he didn't resist as Spectre pulled him along. Yuusaku counted it as a silent blessing. He kept running, feeling the water on his heels, or perhaps just the dampness of his shoes. He didn't dare risk looking back at the water to see how quickly it was rising. Beneath their feet, the engines kept on roaring. Was the boat moving? It jostled to and fro, but that could just as easily have been a large wave.

All he knew was that they had to run.

The relief was short-lived as they clambered out of the tunnel and into the main room. It was dark without the blue monitor screen that he had smashed through, and their tiny duel disk lights only extended two hands-lengths ahead of them. Yuusaku could see dry floor, so there weren't multiple leaks, and the engine sounded quieter in this room. Yet those seemed like minor reassurances.

"How come you're down here too?" Ai asked, tugging on Spectre's arm.

"Hush," Ryouken growled.

Ai stuck out his bottom lip, but in the snap of fingers his eyes glowed with renewed vigour. "Hey, what's that glowing on your wrists?"

"Quiet."

Ai reached for Spectre's duel disk with grabby fingers. "Did you find this down here—"

"Enough—"

"Quiet," Yuusaku said, and he even surprised himself with the sternness of his tone. "Look for the way out."

Ryouken turned his gaze from Ai with a huff, and Spectre shrugged and dropped the child's hand and wandered off. Yuusaku let out a rough breath through his nose; he was going to need to watch Ai else Ryouken strangle him. Truthfully, he didn't feel capable ensuring the safety of a child, but he took Ai by the hand and held tightly.

Ai swung his arm back and forth, rolling on his heels. "Mister, are we going to die down here?"

Fortunately, Yuusaku's anxiety was putting far too much strain on his mind for him to be annoyed. He held out his duel disk and pointed it round the room, lighting up small patches. Ryouken and Spectre had gone in opposite directions, but as the only beings with light in the massive space, Yuusaku didn't have to worry about where they were heading—and even then, Ryouken and Spectre would have been able to spot him by Ai's incessant prattling. His voice echoed off the chamber walls like someone was throwing rocks on metal doors: cling-clang-clatter-chatter.

Yuusaku pulled him along.

He couldn't remember exactly where the ladder had been, but he remembered trekking many minutes across the room to the screen he had broken. This time, he crossed the entire room in just two minutes, and not once did he spot the ladder. Furthermore, he could clearly see Ryouken and Spectre having as little success as him.

The terrible, gut-churning feeling returned. They couldn't have missed the ladder.

He pushed his hand against the computer screen. It was warm to the touch, just like the other screen had been. Had it moved? The room seemed comparably smaller, but if it had, it had also stopped. He pressed his ear to the screen, listening for churning water or turning cogs, but all he could hear was the slight hum of a machine—and Ai's flippant voice.

"Is this a computer? Does it turn on? Is it going to poison you like Miss Miyu said and fry your brains out?"

He leaned back from the screen, catching sight of his haggard expression. His lip hurt, and a slight dark spot in the monochrome reflection revealed a sizable tear in the pink flesh. He'd chewed his lip raw in all his panicking ... and he was biting the same spot again, white teeth practically tearing through the flesh.

"Yuusaku."

He leapt at his name, whirling around with Ai still clamped to him.

"Is there anything on the other side?" Ryouken asked.

"Why?"

Ryouken pushed his hand into the screen, denting the fibreglass. "Because if there's a tunnel on that side, there might be one here."

"All—"

"Oi!" Spectre's voice echoed across the room. "Water's getting into here."

Ai jumped into the air. "Water? Are we drowning?"

Ryouken pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep, weary breath. Then, composed, he hit the screen. Hard, but without the sharp point of a duel disk, it merely dented the screen. The thick sound was what made Yuusaku blink. Solid. Ryouken tried again on another section of the screen, wandering alongside it and creating a dent every foot or so. Yuusaku headed the opposite direction and did the same; there would be another path for them.

Sure enough, not a minute later, Ryouken's voice boomed through the room. "Come here."

"Did he find the way out?" Ai said.

Yuusaku pulled him along, back to Ryouken. He jumped when the tip of Ryouken's duel disk smashed into the screen, shattering glass across the floor. Ryouken kept on smashing the glass until, not only was there a wide hole, but it was as wide as it  _ could  _ be, stretching enough that two people could walk side-by-side without bumping into each other or the wall. This tunnel was much larger, and for some reason, appeared brighter. Perhaps it was just a trick or light. Or the saving grace that it provided a way out.

Still, he had to ask: "What if we get trapped?"

Spectre, having caught up with them, simply shrugged. "Run fast."

Ryouken gave him a push into the tunnel. "That won't happen." He shook the remaining glass from his duel disk, and his hand found Yuusaku's. The brief contact sent a spark to his heart, and with just a single shared glance his heart eased its pattering.

Then Ryouken pushed him forward. "In the middle with the kid," and Yuusaku could hear the implied,  _ He's your responsibility.  _

Meanwhile, Ai pulled faces and said, "Was that adult mushy stuff? Do you  _ have  _ to do that while I'm around?"

Only Spectre laughed aloud from the front of the pack.

Despite the success of finding another tunnel, Yuusaku's worries only grew as he felt the ground begin to descend. Or well, he thought it was descending. Whenever he or Ryouken looked behind them, the path seemed to be curving down, but hardly, and he worried he was just being anxious. The tunnel also seemed to grow narrower, and after five minutes of walking, he was  _ certain  _ that was true. But there were no sounds of water. No dark, damp patches on the walls, floor, or ceiling. No strange noises either, and he couldn't tell if the ship or submarine or wherever they had wound up was rocking back and forth. The whir of the engine had disappeared once they'd left the main room, and now the only echoing sounds were the clack of their shoes and Ai's becoming-bearable chatter. He pointed out the wires all around them and the different colours of them. To shut him up, Yuusaku had given him his duel disk which now waved its light around the tunnel. The flashlight had become a strobe light, and Ai's nimble fingers made shadow puppets on the walls.

Conversationally, Spectre asked, "Does this place have WiFi?"

Yuusaku peered at the waving screen. "Not that I can tell."

"Not even here?" Ryouken hummed to himself, drawing his arms together. He looked to be thinking, but then he shivered violently.

"C-cold?" A shiver ran down Yuusaku’s own spine, and his teeth chattered once.

The tunnel had become unbearably cold in a matter of seconds. No water—he was on the lookout for even a drop or leak—but the air was as frigid as a northern tundra in the middle of a blizzard. With no jacket or even a jumper, Yuusaku could only pull his long sleeves over his hands. Ryouken tucked his arms under his arm pits, clenching his teeth to fight back a shiver.

'Why is it so fucking cold?" Ryouken asked.

Ai sneezed into the air. He yanked up the collar of his jacket—the only one out of the three to wear anything warm—and made mittens of his sleeves. "Yeah, how come it's so fu—"

"Could it be we're deeper underwater?"

Yuusaku blinked at Spectre.

"We've gone down, right? And it's colder in the water than outside of it, in some cases at least."

Ryouken ground his teeth together. "So we're going deeper?"

Yuusaku prepared himself to run. Should water begin to run down the tunnel, they'd need to push against the current to make it back up—and with cold-locked limbs and a child in tow, that feat of strength sounded rather ambitious.

Spectre shrugged. "Can't tell."

Yuusaku couldn't either, at least not with his current vision and thought processes. Every path they took seemed to be taking them to hell. He couldn't tell whether they'd been walking down the path for two minutes or two hours, or whether the lack of noise was because there was no more running water and whirring engines or if he'd just blocked those threatening noises out. But he didn't have to figure it out with his eyes, but with a ball. Inside his pocket, he found a small, round candy, the kind they had had at the main office of the inn and in the cafe. He ripped off the wrapping and set the ball on the ground.

Ai bent down to the floor. "What're you doing?"

Yuusaku pressed his lips together. Prayed. The mint wasn't perfectly round, but it moved after a second, whether from the tunnel moving or something else. It hovered on its side, ready to tumble down the path towards Spectre—and then it raced the opposite direction, past Ryouken's feet and down into the darkness.

Back towards the main room.

"We're heading up?" Ryouken sounded as surprised as he felt.

"I ... guess." The boat couldn't have tipped so much or else they would have lost their balance, but if the rolling mint was their clue, they were travelling up.

He suppressed another shiver. Then how come it was so cold?

"Maybe the surface is up ahead," Spectre said. He was already on the move, and Yuusaku hurried after him. They'd looked long and hard for the entrance when they first stepped onto the strange metal contraption, but considering the large room had shrunk, perhaps this vessel held even more mysteries. It still felt like he was walking deeper into the ship though ...

"Have we tipped?"

Ryouken settled a hand on his back, fingers splayed from shoulder blade to shoulder blade.

"We'll get out."

Ai swung the duel disk's beam into Ryouken's eyes. "Or else we'll die, right?"

In one swift movement, Ryouken spun Ai back around. Yuusaku tugged him closer, and Ai kept on walking and swinging the lights around.

It was a miracle in a hundred different ways when they made it out of the tunnel and into a new room. It was smaller than the large antechamber they'd first stepped into, though perhaps that was due to everything crammed inside it. Large, silver bookcases lined the walls while other, equally sturdy shelves created maze-like paths through the room. The contents were all mixed-up, as if there was no rhyme or reason to what had been placed where, but he still found himself trying to decipher what all the items were: vials and jars of strange liquids; books so old they could have been original archaic manuscripts; and odd bits and ends of metal reminiscent of the junk that had been washing up on the shore. Yet there wasn't a single desk in the room; instead, the old, boxy computer rested on several books. It was the same model as the one in the shack, displaying a basic blue screen.

Spectre swung the mouse from side to side. "You think this is connected to those big monitors out there?"

Ryouken grunted. "Is there anything on this computer? The other one was a bust." They huddled around the computer together. Yuusaku moved closer too, but Ai pulled away from him, wanting to go over to the shelves. With a sigh, Yuusaku let their hands drop; he could keep an eye on the kid, but he also wanted to see just what had caught everyone's attention. If there were files on this computer, they'd likely explain just why this ship was hidden from civilisation.

On the computer's main screen, there was the main page and the mouse. No taskbar, no applications—not even a keyboard connected to the computer. It wasn't anywhere else in the room either, as far as he could tell. Ai had begun to crack open boxes and flip through books, spreading dust everywhere and adding more messiness to the cramped room.

"Don't touch anything that could kill you," Ryouken said.

"There's nothing like that here," Yuusaku said. They didn't need to bring Ai back only for the kid to blabber to the adults,  _ I could have died back there! _

Spectre hummed under his breath. "I wouldn't be so sure. How come this place is hidden?"

Ryouken leaned closer to the screen. "Are the files not there?"

"Not that I can tell ..."

"Hack in."

Spectre lifted his head from the screen and snorted. "You're a hacker like me—you can't just break in, not without a keyboard. There's not even anything to break into."

Yuusaku blinked in surprise. "Is this computer connected to another one?" He and Ryouken peered under the desk, but the computer was simply connected to the wall, and unless there was a secret cable running through the wall to some top-secret room, then they were simply looking at the power cable.

"What about"—Spectre grinned widely—"one of those game cheats? Like left-click, right-click, right-click."

"The Konami Code? In this archaic trash?" Ryouken patted the computer hood. "Unlikely."

Spectre clicked on the screen. Clicked again. Dragged his mouse from one corner to the other. Yet all the actions did were lock up the computer—it wasn't a fast processing computer, and Yuusaku felt a groan build in his throat as the mouse glitched across the monitor. He turned away, after Spectre successfully locked up the mouse, to search for Ai.

Naturally, the child had gone.

Yuusaku stumbled away from the computer, weaving through the rubble littered all round. Books, vials, and other materials had been scattered or stacked or piled on the floor, and while there was a path, it was untidily made. Someone seemed to have plowed their way through.

"Ai—"

His mouth snapped closed at the sight before him. At the back of the room was a large, clear tube. A glass chamber, tall enough to fit an entire body inside—and sure enough, there was a body floating in there, nude and muscular. Blond hair splayed around the figure in a perfect, golden halo, stretching mid-chest. The man was tall and undoubtedly human, unless alien life forms could take on human genes. Ai had spotted the nude figure long before them, but rather than call out, he simply stood with his hands and face plastered to the glass tube.

"Ai, come away from that."

"But he's naked. I can see his junk hanging out."

"Come. Here." A dark ache grew in Yuusaku's stomach. A body in a test tube wasn't the sort of sight one typically stumbled upon.

Ai wandered around the side of the tube, streaking his fingerprints around the glass. His quick breaths fogged up the glass, and when he pulled away, the air was still frigidly cold to create dragon-like smoke.

Yuusaku marched forward. They needed to  _ go. _

"Yuusaku," Ryouken called out, but he only got so far before he stopped in his tracks.

Yuusaku took Ai by the arm. Pulled him. At the same time, Ai reached out for something else—a thick, braided cord—and pulled. He wouldn't have been strong enough, but with Yuusaku's strength tugging him back, the cord pulled free from wherever it had been hooked up too. There was a snap, a crackle, and then loud sirens echoed in the chamber. Red lights flared like fire across the walls.

Out of the corner of his eye, the liquid surrounding the man began to drain away.

"Fuck," Ryouken growled.

"Fuck!" Ai echoed, throwing his hands into the air and dropping the end of the cable.

Yuusaku moved on autopilot. Grabbed Ai. Ran. Saw the lights flash and flare and glow all around him. He bumped into everything in the room, kicking vials and sending torn books flying. He felt Ryouken try to grab him, but at the same time he reached out for Ryouken, and somehow neither of them could get a hold of each other. The room was  _ spinning— _ the boat was  _ tipping— _

Water touched the tips of his toes.

His throat seized, his heart choked itself. Yuusaku grabbed whatever he could hold onto, hoping it was Ai or Ryouken or even Spectre, anyone he could ground himself to and possibly save. Quick, frantic breaths escaped his quivering lips. Everything was cold.

Something dropped onto his head. He screamed as loudly as he had in that nightmare, thrashing from side to side. He knocked into bookshelves or walls or bodies, and when his legs gave out from under him, he felt water splash over his limbs. Blindly, he searched for Ryouken's hand—he needed to escape with someone. He shoved his other hand under the helmet, trying to pry it off his head. It held tight. Whether from the panicking or how tightly the helmet had attached to his head, he felt his mind begin to spin. Air refused to settle in his lungs, and he coughed and cried as he tried to suck in a proper breath. But his vision only grew darker, his movements more floppy than fluid.

Then it was gone. The helmet was off his head, and he was lying on the floor, not in a puddle of water, but among a stack of papers. Ryouken was lying face down in front of him. Yuusaku scrambled to his feet and rolled him over. Not a single scratch marred his ivory cheeks, and his blue eyes fluttered open. Ryouken stared through him, as if he wasn't quite sure he was seeing straight, and then pushed himself up and into Yuusaku's arms. Yuusaku caught him, and though his arms ached, he held close.

"Hey ..."

Yuusaku felt his lips begin to wobble. Unlike the horrible nightmare, he wasn't about to start crying, but he felt like he should. It would bring him closure.

"What happened?" he whispered. He brought a hand up to his hair, surprised to feel strands rather than cold, sleek metal. The helmet was still off his head.

Ryouken shook his head and groaned. He brought a hand up to his forehead, then stilled.

"The helmet?" Had a helmet dropped onto his head too? In all the panic, Yuusaku hadn't seen or heard anyone else. He'd reached out for them, but at some point he'd passed out and woken back up.

Slowly, Ryouken eased himself out of Yuusaku's grip. Yuusaku followed his gaze to the corners of the room. There was no sign of Spectre or Ai, though he could hear vague rustling sounds that had him thinking they were just around the corner. Yuusaku and Ryouken were in the test chamber though, and behind them was the untouched glass tube. There was no one inside it, and in a flicker of panic Yuusaku wondered if the stranger round the corner  _ wasn't  _ one of his allies.

His suspicions were eased as both Spectre and Ai poked their heads out. They looked unharmed, not even a slight of dizziness in their eyes.

"Do you remember any of that?" Spectre said, somehow managing to laugh despite it all.

Ryouken pressed his fingers into his eyes, groaning softly. "Unfortunately, yes."

Yuusaku rubbed his shoulder. He gazed at the glass chamber once more, noting the amber-like liquid still inside and the two plugs floating in the centre. Had the stranger been hooked up before? He hadn't come close, and he doubted Ai could give him a clear answer.

Sure enough, Ai marched right back up to the chamber and rapped his knuckles on it. "Where's that naked bloke?"

Yuusaku stiffened, waiting for the glass to shatter.

Ryouken pressed his head further into his hands, growing paler and slightly green.

"That bloke?" Spectre echoed.

Yuusaku tilted his head towards the glass tube. "There was ... someone in there."

Spectre pressed a fist to his mouth. He approached with ease, wandering through the room as if he were simply examining a possible house to purchase. The messy bookcases and messier piles didn't bother him, and though the chill in the room had eased, Spectre looked wholly unbothered by the entire situation. He wandered round the glass tube, Ai scampering after him.

Then he shrugged. "Was he human? Or human-like?"

"Human-like, at least." Yuusaku scratched his head to remember details.

"He was naked," Ai said. He grinned widely, the sort of shit-eating smile he got whenever he felt particularly proud of himself.

Yet he more Ai talked, the more pale Ryouken seemed to become. He didn't move from the ground, only holding his head tightly in his hands and breathing in and out in far-too-measured intervals. Yuusaku rubbed at his shoulder, yet Ryouken only seemed dazedly aware of the contact. He breathed again, and then tensed. Paled. And in one fluid, albeit limbs-flailing movement, had himself crouched over and vomiting.

Yuusaku hurried to his side, pushing his hair back.

Spectre managed out a "Yikes," and Ai an “Ew!", but Yuusaku held firm, rubbing his back, feeling the coolness of his brow. A concussion? He'd never had one before, but Kusanagi had. In the moment, he could only focus on the way Ryouken kept coughing and blinking, trying to desperately draw himself together. Pink flared around his cheeks and ears, and when he stopped coughing, he pushed at Yuusaku's hands.

"I'm ... fine."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Spectre said, rubbing his chin. "Did you hit your head on the way down?"

"Of course not."

"Do you remember falling?"

Ryouken opened his mouth to answer, or more likely retort, but Spectre shook his head. "It shouldn't matter whether you remember or not, at least not in the grand scheme of things." He approached and knelt down. "Seeing double?"

"Crystal clear," Ryouken ground through his teeth. The effect was wholly ruined by the pinch in his eyes and forehead, and even further when he pressed a hand to his temple. Yuusaku couldn't see a bruise anywhere on his head, even a bump from where he'd fallen. Had they even fallen at all?

Carefully, he shuffled Ryouken away from the puddle of vomit. He set him up against the side of the glass tube. Then he stood up, stretched his legs, took a steadying breath, and gazed around the room. If he ignored Spectre and Ai, and focused only on his surroundings, he could piece together what was going on. They were still in the ship. It wasn't tilting. Around him were the same messy tools and books he had seen coming into the room, and the only difference was that the human-like being was out of the tube. If he had escaped, he'd left no wet footprints or signs of leaving; the floor was bare, and nowhere on the tube were there cracks or smudges. Had he simply climbed out and wandered off?

"Was there really a guy in there?" Spectre asked.

Ai bounced to and fro on his feet. "Yeah, some naked dude! Where'd he go?"

Yuusaku marched out of the room. In the first room, he found the same, drooping mess; the haphazardly-arranged bookcases with tools and textbooks not even designed for science or computer science experiments; and the computer, perched on several leaning stacks of books with its blinking white screen.

White?

On the curved screen was an open file detailing a particular experiment: blink, raise hand, stop, go; and other commands, all arranged in a single column. On the surface, it seemed rather pointless, but there were several rows intersecting it: six of them, all blank.

Blink.

The cursor moved.

Yuusaku jumped, whirling around, expecting to find Spectre leaning over his shoulder—he had felt a prickling feeling that someone else was there—or Ai at his side bouncing the move from side to side. But he was the only one who'd wandered into the room. Goosebumps ran up and down his arms.

The cursor moved a second time, and then characters began to appear on the screen:  _ TEST 01. _

A pause.

_ SUBJECT: LIGHTNING. _

His blood ran cold. Lightning? The little blond boy.

Yuusaku snaked a hand up to his head. Felt his hair tickle his fingertips. Felt his clammy, damp skin. But there was a ghost of a feeling around his head, like something was pushing into his skull.

If Lightning was still around, and this was test number one, then ... had Lightning not been kidnapped?

Back in time? No. He swallowed thickly. A simulation.

Feet scrambling on the floor, Yuusaku hurried back into the second room. Spectre was crouched in front of Ryouken, and whether his presence was doing Ryouken any good had yet to seem promising. Ai wandered around the room without a care in the world, pulling objects off shelves and examining them with large eyes. At the sight of him, both Spectre and Ai looked up.

"Any news?" Spectre said with a smile.

"We have to get out of here." A wobble of breath. His fingers dug deep into his palms. "The ... helmets are still on our heads, and this is a simulation."

Spectre raised a hand to his head. Paused. "Ah. I see."

Ai tapped his own head. "I don't feel anything there."

"And what are we experiencing?" Spectre asked. He stood and headed towards the computer. Yuusaku followed after him, and the hairs on the back of his neck raised as Spectre tapped the screen. No other details had been added to the computer document, but the blinking bar felt like a dark warning—there would be more. Something was happening here.

"Do you think this simulation is real?" Spectre asked. He ran his tongue over his teeth and leaned closer. "Who's Lightning?"

Ai poked his head around the corner. "Lightning? My friend, Lightning?"

Yuusaku stiffened.

Spectre smiled. "Ah. The first child."

"We need to find him," Yuusaku said. "I think ... this is how the abductions began."

Nothing could frighten Spectre, at least not anything Yuusaku had seen, and in a way, Spectre's sangfroid was more concerning than if he were upset by the situation.

"Would it be best then to wait until Lightning comes here?"

Yuusaku nearly choked. "Wha—"

"Well, if that girl had tried wandering out here, then perhaps the other children did too, and it would give us a chance to see just what would happen—"

"We  _ can't,"  _ Yuusaku hissed between clenched teeth. "We can't put someone's life in danger—"

"To further our own gain?" The computer light glowed against Spectre's skin, turning it translucent and sickly. "Are all of us here truly above that?"

He was worrying at his lip again—Yuusaku could feel blood in his mouth—but he remained still. No. Spectre and Ryouken may have been Knights of Hanoi, but the days of cyberterrorism were behind them. He didn't want to think about resorting to such tactics—no, they would never even consider it. But an ache blossomed behind his eyes as Spectre swung his gaze around the room. The thought didn't even bother him. Didn't make him sick to his stomach.

"I'll go find Lightning then."

Spectre blinked. "Alone?"

"If I must."

A shrug. The fact that Spectre wasn't upset by  _ any  _ of this was perhaps the most grating aspect of this whole situation.

"No, you won't." Ryouken stood in the doorway, leaning heavily against the frame with his hands clenched bone-white round the metal. Sweat dripped over his face and he suppressed a tight shiver. Yet, Yuusaku had to give him credit, he was standing well for someone not five minutes ago had been lying on the floor green at the gills. He swallowed, the sharp point of his throat bobbing up and down, and said, "Splitting up is only asking for one of  _ us  _ to be taken."

Spectre swung round with his hands behind his back. "Hm?"

"If this is a simulation ..." Ryouken swallowed again, pressing himself further against the frame. "And helmets are all on our heads ... we could get disconnected. Or worse."

The only way they'd be able to ensure all of them returned from the simulation would be to stick together. That way, if anyone did disappear, the only reason would be because they'd been unplugged. Yuusaku felt his nerves unravel. Next to him, Spectre hummed to himself.

"I see your point," he said at last.

Ryouken bent his head down, but as he sagged, Yuusaku hurried forward to lift him up. He tensed as Ryouken kept on swallowing, but eventually, he lifted his head back up and reached for something to steady himself with—Yuusaku's shoulder.

"Will you be able to walk?" Yuusaku asked.

Ryouken nodded. He took a step forward, then another; steady enough to walk, but Yuusaku could see the pain clear on his face. Arguing with Ryouken though was out of the question. He'd go if he wanted to, and, truthfully, Yuusaku didn't want to leave anyone behind. The decision to leave never came as a verbal direction; they simply marched out of the room and back down the hallway.

The first thing he noticed was that there was no water in the tunnel either, and that the long trip he remembered on the way to the room had become much shorter. It felt like seconds later that they were staring at a door—a door that opened into the large antechamber. The four large computer screens were nowhere in sight, unless they had been hidden above or below them in some compartment. He wouldn't have doubted it; this ship had far too many mysteries. But he counted his blessings as he saw the ladder—and next to it, a little elevator, made of nothing more than a metal sheet tied up with an electric pulley system.

"Well that solves one of our problems," Spectre said.

Wordlessly, Ryouken slipped on. The tips of his ears were redder than tomatoes, and Yuusaku wondered if fever was a symptom of a concussion, or if all this caring was making Ryouken uncomfortable. He pressed a hand to Ryouken's cheek, then closer to his forehead.

"Does this hurt?" he whispered.

Ryouken ground his teeth. "It's fine."

Behind him, Ai gagged. "Are you doing that mushy adult stuff again?"

Yuusaku clenched his teeth. Sighed. Then pressed a chaste kiss to Ryouken's cheek. "We'll be fine."

The pulley would have been large enough to put someone else on with Ryouken, but the only person who would have had difficulty with the ladder was Ai, and Yuusaku could only imagine the consequences of having them sit together. Thus, Yuusaku, Spectre, and Ai climbed the ladder alongside the pulley. He felt better knowing Ai climbed second and between the two adults, but as they climbed out of the large room and into the narrow channel through which they entered, Ai's voice began to echo.

"If this is a simulation, does that mean everyone's alive?"

"Weren't they all alive?" Spectre asked.

Ai let out a little huh. "Yeah, I guess ... But will they all be awake, I mean. And will Earth be awake too?"

"I don't know," Yuusaku said between his clenched teeth. If his theories were correct, they were going to find Lightning before someone lured him away. Thus, the other children should have been fine.

He expected to see a skylight in the top of the ship, or worse, that they were underwater and had no way of getting out, but to his surprise, there was only a simple door to flip open. Ryouken had been wheeled up alongside them, and Yuusaku helped him through the opening first. He followed after, and reached back down to help Ai scramble onto the surface. As Spectre exited the tunnel, Yuusaku sunk back on his heels and stared out at the great, expansive sea and, just to his side, the shore. He could see the little, silver arm that stretched out like a plank towards the sandy beach. No one was on the shore yet, and so far out from civilisation, it was even quieter along the water.

He turned to Ai.

"Where was Lightning first?"

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone had a different story about where Lightning was on the night he was kidnapped, but I’m sure you’re familiar with the real story. So now we'd like the truth: where did Lightning go?"

Ai rubbed his hands together.

"You saw him, didn't you?"

Ryouken snorted. "Kid, if you don't tell us, your friend may very well die—"

Yuusaku stiffened. Lightning hadn't died, but—

Ai's bottom lip began to quiver. "He ... he went to the shack."

"The one we saw you and Windy at?"

Ai shook his head. "The other one ... the one with the computer ... He ..." Ai squeezed his eyes closed, and while no tears fell out, he looked like he was about to. "He went into that room, and when he came out, he went to the beach."

Spectre rolled back on the balls of his heels, grinning. "Looks like we have our plan."

Yuusaku reached down to help Ryouken up. He was steadier on his feet, but pale, and with each step, he clenched his jaw tighter. They'd been rethinking their plan soon. But he knew, if he told Ryouken to stay, there'd be a thousand more reasons why he would want to go. They couldn't leave each other alone. They couldn't split up. They couldn't leave until all of them were free.

They needed to find Lightning.

Without another word, he marched off with Ryouken in tow. They held hands, but Ryouken kept blinking slowly and swaying on his feet, and crossing a thin metal trail with bad balance seemed like a recipe for a cold, autumn swim. Ai marched just behind them, pulling faces and making gagging sounds. Spectre flicked him on the back of the head as he followed after them. Despite the rag-tag troupe they had created, they made it out onto the sandy beach without any qualms.

The first detail Yuusaku noticed when his soles touched frozen sand was that there was far fewer pieces of junk poking out of the ground. The odd piece of wire stuck out like the tail of some unfortunate rodent, and keyboard pieces were flung around like confetti, but there were no large pieces, and certainly no computer mice that Ai had mentioned. Either the children had collected the junk, or it had begun washing up after Lightning's disappearance.

He crouched down next to Ai. "Did Lightning go to the shack first?"

Ai nodded.

"In the morning?"

Another nod.

"Or do you not know?" Spectre asked, crossing his arms over his hands.

This time, Ai shrugged.

Yuusaku let out a breath through his nose. He was beginning to feel some of the frustration Ryouken and Spectre had felt; at his side, Ryouken was the most calm as he focused on keeping his stomach settled and his vision straight. Yuusaku could feel his clammy palm flexing as he tried to keep himself present and at the attention.

"We'll check the shack first," Spectre said, heading down the coast.

As Yuusaku stepped forward, a thought crossed his mind. "Can we be seen?"

Spectre blinked. "This isn't time travel or parallel universes, or at least I don't think so."

Ryouken groaned and rubbed at his eyes. "But are we even visible?"

Ai held out his hands and examined them closely. "Do I look see-through?"

He didn't, but that didn't reassure Yuusaku. Ryouken had a point: were they visible in this simulation? Were they even able to interact with their environment, or were they being shown Lightning's abduction simply to frighten them? His legs didn't glitch or pass through the ground or leaves, and Ai couldn't stick his hand through the trees as he found out when he punched it. But Ryouken's point made Yuusaku wonder: just what could they do here?

Still, Yuusaku suggested they travel through the forest where they were less likely to be spotted. Out on the beach, a group of four people, with only one of them familiar, would look suspicious. But between the thick trees and heavy, green foliage, they blended in surprisingly well. They stayed off the main paths to avoid running into anyone on a morning stroll; Spectre and Ai chose only the most rugged paths that had Yuusaku tripping over his heels and Ryouken bowling into everything.

At the front, Ai showed them the way towards the shack.

"Did you see Lightning go away?" Spectre asked. Despite the lightness of his tone, he meant business.

Ai hiked his shoulders up to his ears. "No ... I just saw him go this way."

Through the trees, the sun was just starting to rise. Lightning would be coming their way soon.

At the sight of the shack, Yuusaku sped up. Goosebumps prickled over his skin. He pressed his hand to the door, and then froze. Should they hide indoors or outdoors? They'd want to keep an eye on Lightning, and Ai never specified if Lightning went into the shack, just that he was heading in that general direction.

"We'll split up," Spectre said, and before Yuusaku could retort, he raised a hand. "Two of us inside, two of us outside. We won't be more than a boards-length apart, but this way we'll see where Lightning goes—if he heads into the shack at all."

Silently, Yuusaku nodded. He kept his hand hooked round Ryouken's fingers, and Spectre sighed.

"I'll take the kid with me and we'll stay outside."

A nod.

"Don't be seen unless you have to," Ryouken said.

Spectre smiled. "Because this is a simulation?"

"Because we don't know who's out there, and let's not have the world against us. We don't know what we're messing with, and this is hardly the time for foolishness."

"Keep our heads low," Spectre said. He gazed round the empty area, made up of trees and ferns. Yuusaku followed Spectre's gaze to a particularly thick patch of ferns round a lump in the soil. It would be tall and thick enough for both him and Ai to hide behind, but close enough to the shack that they'd see if anyone came. Still, Yuusaku's gaze wandered round the open land. If someone else came, would they spot Spectre and Ai? A child might overlook them, but an adult with keen eyes might be on the lookout for other beings.

He sighed as he left Spectre and Ai to figure out their arrangement, and he and Ryouken slipped indoors.

The shack was even darker without the sun to slip through the dirty window, and without his duel disk's flashlight, he couldn't even see his hand in front of him. He swung the light round the room, searching for any oddities, any strange happenings. When he had first seen this shack, it had been empty, but there were pieces of wire here in cardboard boxes. Nothing stood out as particularly suspicious—and in fact, Yuusaku wished there were more suspicious belongings in the house to hide behind. The computer sat on a small wooden desk; he and Ryouken would barely be able to squeeze down there.

Ryouken looked around the room too. "Not much to see, huh?"

Yuusaku nodded grimly. He motioned towards the desk, but Ryouken held firm.

"We can't both fit under there."

"We could." Tightly. Uncomfortably. Maybe even less so because Ryouken was as flexible as a thick iron board.

Ryouken tilted his head to one dark corner of the room, away from the window. "I'll hide there."

"No, I'll go."

"And put yourself on the line?" Ryouken snorted. "If one of us is seen, the other is going to leap out and help them. I have no doubts of that. So"—he smiled, and for the first time, looked a bit more like his old self—"does it really matter where we hide?"

Yuusaku pressed a kiss to his lips.

"I'll take that as a no," Ryouken said around his lips.

Yuusaku reached out to spin him towards the desk, but Ryouken's own hands settled on his hips and swayed him towards the computer. Swept away by the moment, he had no choice but to curl up under the desk and watch Ryouken stumble towards the corner. Even in the dark room, bits and pieces of Ryouken's starlight hair glimmered from the corner. Yuusaku knew he wasn't fully hidden either—but if Lightning was busy looking for something else, he'd hardly focus on the minor differences in his surroundings.

A moment later, Yuusaku heard a shuffle. A click. A turn of the handle as Lightning himself opened the door and peered inside. Not unconscious on the bed, it was the first time he'd properly seen the child. He looked older than the other children, with small, pale eyes that blinked as they adjusted to the light. Despite the obvious leadership status he held, he slipped into the room with trepidation. He had no light in his hands—Yuusaku counted his blessings—and even with the door left open, it was still too dark to see Ryouken pressed into the corner.

Slowly, Lightning approached the computer. His small lips parted, and each of his breaths sounded dizzyingly soft, as if he were trying his hardest not to disturb the peaceful moment. Yuusaku pushed his back against the wall, knees tucked up to his chest. Lightning hadn't seen him. He was too busy standing in front of the computer and ... tapping it. Yuusaku frowned. There had just been a computer before, but now that he squinted his eyes in the darkness, he could see two cables running from above the table: the obvious cable to the computer, and then ...

_ Tap. Tap. _

Had Lightning been typing? He hadn't checked, too busy trying to figure out where he and Ryouken should have hid. Now that he was under the table and Lightning was standing in front of him, he couldn't see Ryouken.

His heart began to race once more.

Deep breath.

No.

Shallow breaths, so quiet that no one would be able to hear him.

Hanging from Lightning's hands was the computer mouse. It was a slim, basic design with just two buttons, and by the old-style trackball, it was archaic  _ junk,  _ but Yuusaku remembered Ai or one of the kids talking about the mouse Lightning had found. It was true then: he had found an old computer mouse.

Lightning set it on the table and rolled it back and forth. Paused. Tried again. Clicked it.

Without it being plugged in, the mouse couldn't do much.

Again, Yuusaku swallowed. Would Lightning know to plug in electricity?

Before he could find out, something burnt Yuusaku's back. He let out a groan, slapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. Lightning shuffled, tipped forward—and fell down to the ground with a soft thud.

Across the room, Ryouken didn't move a muscle.

Yuusaku dashed forward, scooping the kid up under the arms. He was feather-light and gangly, just like the other children, and the most the fall had done was dust his translucent skin with a bit of smudged dirt and dust. Yet his eyes were rolled back into their sockets, and his breaths came out far too slowly and quietly. Like a corpse. Like a ghost had shocked his consciousness right out of him. Yuusaku rubbed his arms and gently pinched his skin.

"Ryouken—"

But Ryouken had his attention on the door, where another blond-haired man stood.

The man from the glass chamber was much larger in real life, Yuusaku realised. He took up the entire doorframe, and he almost looked too big to fit through the door and into the room. Yet he approached with the grace of an angel, sliding into the dark area and illuminating a gentle glow.

Yuusaku tugged Lightning closer to him.

Ryouken stepped forward. "What business do you have here?"

The man wandered his eyes over them. They way he moved, the way he  _ was,  _ put Yuusaku's teeth on edge. Nothing seemed human as the man approached, each of his steps too clunky, each of his breaths too small or deep.

"I am here to collect my results."

"Enough of that," Yuusaku said, voice but a hiss. "Did this happen because of you?"

"Because of my test results."

Ryouken took another step. He kept a hand pressed against the wall, and when he moved, he had to pinch his eyes together. "What ... did you ... do?"

"I have not done anything yet," the man said. His gaze drifted further into the room, to the computer against the wall. "I must return to finish my work."

"To the ship?"

Spectre rounded the corner. Yuusaku felt his heart stop as he searched for Ai, but the rascally boy appeared behind Spectre's legs. He let out a scream and pointed at Ai, but Spectre, ever calm, cool, and collected when he wanted to be, merely patted his head. "You heard my ally: you have no business here, unless you are the person who brought us to this simulation."

The man raised an eyebrow. He kept his gaze on the computer, and in little more than a breath, Yuusaku heard him say, "Is this your work?" But then the stranger straightened up and moved towards Yuusaku. "I have come to collect my results."

He'd had enough of this weird shit. Yuusaku pulled Lightning back into his arms and kicked out with his legs. He wasn't aiming for anywhere in particular, but the stranger, despite their large size, wasn't steady, and they stumbled to the side from just a simple kick to the shin. Yuusaku dragged himself further back. He had enough time to rise to his feet and bring Lightning into his arms, and by the time the stranger came at him again, Spectre had lunged. A brown stick clove the air and connected with the stranger's shoulder.

Snapped it two as if it were only made of kindling fire.

The man blinked at it.

"That will not work against someone like me."

Yuusaku dashed to the side. He grabbed Ryouken's hand, but Ryouken, while he had waited for him, had not wished of sparring the stranger either. They broke out the room, grabbing Ai along the way. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Spectre had followed them, and fortunately, no one had stupidly taken up their tragic hero role. They all ran out of the shack and through the forest, not caring who saw them, at least not desperately. Yuusaku ran further into the forest, away from the town—the last place he wanted to be followed was into the town where Kiku and Takeru and the other children were unsuspectingly feeling safe.

With Lightning in his arms and Ryouken lagging dizzy behind him, Yuusaku couldn't run far. Or fast. But to his surprise, the stranger never followed them with any superhuman velocity. They charged through the trees, neither quiet nor rogue-like, and when they tumbled behind the first large boulder they saw, Yuusaku expected someone to pop out around the corner and scare them half to death.

They couldn't be safe.

His breaths wheezed between his parted lips. Next to him, Ryouken swallowed once, twice, and then vomited again. Spectre weakly patted him on the back, sweat clinging to his forehead.

Ai was as quiet as a mouse. No snarky comments. No chitter-chatter. His wide, owl-like eyes remained focused on everyone, but his little mouth snapped tighter than a trap door.

Yuusaku pressed his head back into the boulder, trying to get his breathing under control. Lightning remained unconscious in his arms, but if the stranger hadn't touched him, then he wondered if this was like with Aqua, unharmed after the initial panic.

Spectre patted the back of his head. "Well that didn't end the simulation."

He could hardly count that as a relieving statement.  _ And we're all alive  _ would have held the same amount of dry, disregarded positivity.

Shakily, Ryouken ran his wrist over his lips. Coughed. "That man is after us," he said. "And if we're going to figure this fucking mess out, that's who we're going after."

He could only nod in agreement.


	9. Chapter 9

Eventually, they had to get away from the area. They hadn't run that far, and if that stranger was looking for them, the smart choice would have been to search behind large trees and rocks. They needed to find a proper hiding spot where they would blend into their surroundings ... only said surroundings were the barely-populated town and empty area. It wouldn't provide them much, or any, cover. Still, Yuusaku marched forward, Lightning in one arm and Ryouken's hand held in his opposite hand. Behind him, Ai held tightly to his shirt, and Spectre followed behind them.

Since they had left the shack, Ai had been quiet, but as they trekked through the forest, he spoke up.

"Lightning still has his computer."

"His  _ mouse,"  _ Ryouken said. He swayed from side to side and rubbed tiredly at the deep grooves of his face. "That attaches to a computer." A pause. "I think the kid was even trying to do that."

"Would he know how?" Spectre asked.

Yuusaku waited for Ai to speak up, but the child was more focused on batting the computer mouse hanging from Lightning's limp grip. Lightning had hold of the mouse itself, but its simple cord and USB adapter hung within reach of Ai who studied it like a gemcutter studied a prized jewel.

"What's this end here?"

Yuusaku tilted his head to see what Ai was holding onto—the USB adapter—and Ryouken answered.

"A part of the computer mouse."

Ai shook it for emphasis. "Yeah, but where does it  _ go?" _

"You don't know?" Spectre raised a slender, white eyebrow. "Your friend did. Did he just know what to do?"

"Unlikely." Ryouken groaned into a step, and Yuusaku thought he would be sick—or worse, pass out. But he held himself up against a tree trunk and breathed deeply through his nose. "I could see him playing with that mouse and he knew exactly what to do."

Yuusaku had been under the table, and he'd only seen Lightning approach the computer with his mouse. After that, he'd seen Lightning fall to the ground. Nothing more. Yet Ryouken's words raised theories in his mind: none of the children should have had any experience with technology considering there were no such devices in the city. If someone who wasn't familiar with computers approached one, it was unfathomable they would consider inserting the USB device into its drive. That just didn't make sense with what they knew about the town's residents.

Lightning shifted in his arms, lifting his head a bit. Yuusaku propped him up, waiting for the telltale blink of his eyes, but he simply remained resting.

"Do you think that stranger knew what he was doing?"

Yuusaku blinked.

"The stranger," Spectre repeated. "Did he seem familiar with computers?"

"Never saw," Ryouken said. "But he was outside the door with you, and you had a clearer shot."

Spectre looked a  _ bit  _ too guilty as he threaded his hands together. "Well, he certainly appeared ... but he didn't seem interested in the technology too much."

"Was that the stranger you saw back then?" Yuusaku asked. Then: "The stranger before—from before we entered this simulation?"

"Never saw him."

"And you?" Yuusaku turned to Ai. "Is he familiar?"

"Sure!" Ai bounced up and down on his feet. "That was the naked bloke—"

"Before."

"Oh." Ai looked like he'd dropped his favourite ice cream on the ground. "I don't know."

Ryouken clicked his teeth together. "Is that a lie?"

"A truth!" Ai said, balling his hands into fists. "I'm sure there was someone out there, but I didn't know it was him or not or whatever."

At Ai's shouting, Lightning squirmed in Yuusaku's arms. He blinked his pale eyes, and to Yuusaku's surprise, remained awake, staring up at him. He remembered when Aqua had woken up in Takeru's arms, and Lightning made much the same, dozy expressions as he blinked and yawned. Then, as clear as fresh water, he spoke up.

"I don't know you."

Ai scrambled over to Lightning, embracing him in a tight hug. He yanked Lightning right out of Yuusaku's arms, and no one seemed prepared for the embrace, not even Ai. He tumbled back with Lightning still in his arms, and the two of them rolled together across the dirt. All the while, Ai couldn't stop blabbering out Lightning's name, as if, if he spoke more, Lightning might stay awake and realise who was with him. Despite the tackle, Lightning came to much more quickly than Aqua, and after falling, picked himself up and dusted the dirt from his shirt and trousers.

"Lightning—"

"Ai, you're smothering me. Why don't you tell me what's going on?"

The tone of a mature leader. He even sounded older, and with a soft chuckle, Yuusaku wondered if Ryouken had been such a leader from a young age.

"Well." Ai sucked in a large breath. "These guys—"

"Are wondering what you were doing earlier?" Ryouken cut in. He slumped against the tree, one hand bracing his forehead.

"Do you remember?" Yuusaku added, remembering that Aqua couldn't recall what had happened to her. Then again, hers and Lightning's situations were different.

Lightning glanced down at his empty hands. His eyes fell on the computer mouse by his feet; it had been knocked away when Ai tackled him to the ground, and it rested upside-down on the grass, tracker ball exposed. Carefully, Lightning picked it up and cradled it in his hands.

"Do you know what that is?" Spectre asked.

Lightning's small eyes narrowed to thin slits. "Do you?"

A test?

Ryouken tapped his finger to his duel disk, drawing Lightning's attention to its sleek design, sparkling metal, and glowing base. He shook his hand to the side and the holographic interface opened up. Lightning's eyes grew wider and wider, and his unflappable seriousness melted away at the corners of his mouth. Any child would be drawn to the beauty of a duel disk, Yuusaku thought. Lightning was no exception.

"This is a duel disk," Ryouken said. "And what is it that you have in your hand?"

Lightning pressed the mouse to his chest. "A computer." No sir, no mister—not even the snarky hint of one, as Ai was apt to saying. Lightning kept his chin stuck out and his chest puffed, and for a weedy boy only a bit taller than the other kids, he didn't hold much of a commanding presence against two Hanois.

"A computer  _ mouse,"  _ Ryouken corrected. "And what were you going to do with it?"

"Hook it to that other computer."

"How?"

Lightning turned to Yuusaku.

"How?" Yuusaku said again.

Lightning turned the tip of the mouse's cable in his fingers. He held the USB end aloft, pinched between his thumb and index finger. "This here. You can connect it to the computer."

"You ... can?" Ai tilted his head to the side.

Lightning nodded his head.

So he did know how to hook up the mouse. Still, it only raised further questions in Yuusaku's mind.

"How do you know what this is?" Lightning asked.

Spectre crouched down in front of Lightning. "Do you not know who those guys are?"

"He wouldn't." Yuusaku rubbed at his own duel disk, feeling the clunkier corners and heavier design. Lightning's eyes wandered over each of their wrists, but unlike the other children, he wasn't afraid. He was curious, but also cautious. His hands remained around the mouse, but he wasn't holding it away from it like it would poison him. For a child raised tech-free, he was unnervingly calm.

Scratch that, Lightning reminded him of Spectre.

Yuusaku didn't care to elaborate how it was Lightning wouldn't have known them, and Spectre seemed to realise with a faint 'ah' and 'hm.'

"How do you know what this computer mouse is?" Lightning asked again. 

"I've seen one before," Yuusaku said. "But from what I know, you live in that town over there, and there are no computers there. How'd you know what the mouse was?"

Lightning's gaze slid to Ai, staring at the mouse like it might come alive and swing by its tail. "There's a book in the library on computers and I've read it."

Yuusaku blinked.

Ai's mouth dropped open, so far Yuusaku half-expected it to hit the ground with a dull thud. "There's  _ what?" _

"You'd know if you went into the library."

"No I wouldn't because  _ Aqua  _ doesn't even know either—none of us knew! So—how come you knew where the book was?" Ai flapped his arms up and down, becoming more animated with each second. Through it all, Lightning remained still as sunlight, arms folded in front of him.

"Aqua never looked for it."

A huff echoed through the forest, so loud the towns at the bottom of Japan probably heard them. "Well then how come you called it a computer instead of a computer mouse?" Ai let out a low chortle. "These guys knew the difference."

A low blow, but Lightning merely shrugged a shoulder. "You didn't know either."

Yuusaku could feel the beginning of a childish argument, and after witnessing Ai and Windy's incessant bickering, he wasn't ready to have Ai charge full-idiot into 'I-know-everything' Lightning. He was certain Ryouken already had a headache, and he could feel one of his own blossoming against his temples.

"We went to the library and never saw it."

"It should still be there," Lightning said. "I just hid it."

Well no wonder there were so many mysteries in this town: no one shared details with each other, and when they did, they lied. All along Lightning had half the clues, or so it seemed. Yuusaku glanced over his shoulder, expecting some hooded figure to emerge from the thicket and demand they hand Lightning over. It would have happened in a shounen manga. But they remained in the forest, undisturbed, and somehow the stranger hadn't heard Ai's shouting.

"We should look at the book," Ryouken said. He had the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers, and by the paleness of his features, he was fighting back dizziness and nausea once more. How he expected himself to look for the book, Yuusaku had no clue, but he knew better than suggesting Ryouken take it easy. He wouldn't have stopped anyways.

Spectre snapped his fingers together. "And you, Lightning, will show us the way."

Lightning shrugged. "It's not that much of a secret."

"Oh, it is!" Ai said. Gone was the fight from his mind, and he was back to bouncing along like a fawn at Lightning's heels. "We've been chased by this creep, and then we went into a metal ship and found some dude in a tunnel—oh, and before that we've been all around town with these guys. They're from ... well, where are you from?"

"Out of town," Ryouken said, all in one breath and clear enough to stop either child from asking any further questions.

At least until Ai spoke up a minute later.

"So where's the book, Lightning?"

"In the library. I'll show it to you, and then I want to plug the mouse in."

"What do you think will happen?" Ai asked.

Lightning bounced the mouse from hand to hand. "Something."

So he didn't know what the mouse was for. Yuusaku tried to picture just what book Lightning could have come across, and how it had come into his hands. He kept the questions to himself for the moment as their trek left them out in the open and at the outskirts of the town. The familiar ramshackle buildings and the tall obelisk of the library stood apart from every other structure—-and there weren’t many. 

"Well." Spectre crouched down, planting his face in his hands. "We know from this kid here seeing us that we're not invisible to non-simulation people, but they won't recognise us, and ..." He let out a short laugh. "If my own experiences are to go by, the villagers aren't too friendly with strangers."

"We'll have to sneak in." Yuusaku was already searching for a route. With the library in the centre of the town, there wasn't any way to hide behind buildings or use some secret passage. One way or another, they'd need to walk down the streets. 

"Throw the mouse into the courtyard and scare them?"

Yuusaku nearly slapped Ryouken.

Spectre, however, laughed outright. "Scare tactic?"

"We can sneak in," Yuusaku said. It was the safest plan for the group and wouldn't endanger or frighten anyone. Besides, while the surroundings areas were rather bland, when he looked more closely at the town, he could see buildings to hide behind—and tucked at the back of the library, an open window. "There's a back way in."

He expected at least someone from the peanut gallery to speak up and say otherwise, but they all remained quiet. Thus, Yuusaku lead the group down through the forest and to the side of the town. With the library being in the town square, there wasn't much of a back alley—but the street behind it was simply well-treaded earth, so it wasn't as frequented by other villagers. From there, they'd simply need to hop into the garden and slip through the window.

He glanced left and right. No humans.

"We split up," he said. "Spectre, you go first. Then Ryouken. Then me."

"What about the kids?"

Yuusaku pressed his lips together. They didn't need to worry about sneaking them into the library, yet for some reason his stomach churned at the thought of leaving them unattended. They weren't exactly the most obedient children, and who was to say the stranger wasn't waiting in hiding for them.

"I'll send them in after you, Spectre."

Ryouken turned to Lightning. "Will anyone else be in the library at this hour?"

"Miss Miyu and Aqua, either one of them or both." Lightning shrugged his shoulders, unfazed. "But they'll be at the front and won't see us."

Ryouken nodded stiffly. "Good. Neither of you will go looking for your friends while we're there. Got it? We don't need anyone going after us and questioning who we are and where we're from."

"Are you here illegally?" Lightning asked.

"No," Ai said with a loud guffaw, "we came here with magic."

Spectre pressed a hand over Ai's mouth to quieten him. Yuusaku checked the surroundings once more. No adults or children wandering on the back road, and no other signs of danger. He tapped Spectre on the shoulder to let him go, but his hand met empty air: Spectre had already waltzed out. Though it would have seemed silly to creep around like they were wanted suspects, he expected Spectre to care a  _ bit  _ more about being caught. Yet he walked with his head held high and his shoulders squared, as if he belonged in this town all along.

Yuusaku waited, fingers itching at his palms.

Spectre made it to the window without even a hiccup. He pushed himself up onto the sill, swung his legs inside, and then disappeared. Not a second later, he poked a hand out and made a peace gesture with his fingers. All clear.

Yuusaku gave Ai a push to get him moving, and together the two of them wandered across the street. Ai swung his arms back and forth, and out of the corner of his eye, Yuusaku saw something long and grey arc like a pendulum.

The mouse.

He snatched out to grab it, but Ai swung it in the opposite direction. It looked like an awkward, not-quite-complete lasso, but by how fast Ai was whipping it through the air, it looked like a never-ending piece of grey rope.

Yuusaku reached again, this time for Ai. He dodged out of his way, but somewhere in his mischievous brain he knew where he ought to be, and he skedaddled over to the window. Yuusaku felt the weight sag on his shoulders. If someone had seen them. If someone had spotted either of them and made a commotion. Across the room, he spotted Ryouken groaning into his hands. At least he wasn't the only one.

"Nobody saw me," Ai said, swinging back and forth on his heels. The computer mouse lay on the grass, still attached to its thin cable.

He didn't have time to argue. The windows opened from the bottom, leaving the top attached to the frame and a narrow space to wiggle through to get into the room. Yuusaku crouched down with Ai and guided him up into the window; at the same time, Spectre reached out to take him and pull him over the window. Yuusaku had expected this part to be the most difficult aspect, yet Ai remained still as he was lifted through the window, and when Yuusaku was done helping, Lightning had crossed the street with Ryouken. Once more, he helped Lightning into the room.

Then it was their turn.

Ryouken swatted Spectre away as he ducked into the window and then back up. The difficult part wasn't getting one's body in position, but guiding oneself to turn into and over the sill. Ryouken braced a hand on the other side of the window, and another hand on the sill, and arched himself part-way through the tunnel.

"Hey, you want to go to the beach!"

There was someone coming down the path. Windy, he suspected by the pitchiness of the voice, and likely there was another child with him.

Yuusaku pushed Ryouken through the window and scrambled up after him. He hoped Spectre would catch them on the other side, but when he fell through, limbs everywhere, he landed on something unfortunately soft: Ryouken himself, splayed out on the floor like a fashionable rug. Ryouken groaned softly.

"At least you didn't hit your head," Spectre said, crouching down by them. Ai and Lightning stood on either side of him: Ai with his face held in his hands, and Lightning merely examining the situation with the same indifference that was quickly becoming his trademark.

Yuusaku pushed himself off Ryouken, and together the two of them rose to their feet. For trying to make a quiet, conservative entrance, they'd spectacularly failed, but Yuusaku couldn't hear anyone in the library either. The books and shelves seemed to swallow up such noises, and with the only light coming from the candles and windows, the room was dimmer in places. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the filtered light and he gazed around. When he and Ryouken had previously visited the library, they hadn't wandered everywhere—but this looked like an entirely new section of the library, made up of tables and chairs instead of book shelves, though he could see the shelves through a doorway.

"I used to study in here," Lightning said.

"Is this where you hid the book?" Ryouken asked.

Lightning shook his head. "This way."

They followed him out the door and along one of the back shelves. Their footfalls were lighter than dust. At one point, Yuusaku thought he saw the front door, but it disappeared a moment later and he found himself thinking they had just fallen into an entirely new building.

When Lightning stopped, it wasn't in front of anything spectacular. It wasn't even in front of the shelves. There were two desks, side by side, pressed up against the wall. Made of dark wood, they were functional but not spectacular, and Yuusaku waited to see just what Lightning would do. Sure enough, and just before Ai opened his mouth, Lightning crouched down and reached a hand under the desk; there was a little shelf at the back where one might rest their feet, and from underneath it came a book. Since there wasn't any dust on it, it couldn't have been hiding long.

Lightning wiped off its cover nonetheless.

Spectre wriggled his fingers. "Well, hand it over."

"What are you looking for?"

Spectre shrugged. "Don't know yet."

Wordlessly, Lightning handed over the book, past Ai who craned his neck to see the cover. Yuusaku leaned forward to see too. Like the desk, or practically anything else in the town, it looked more plain and hardy, as if it had survived generations—and yet it couldn't have, for within the book were detailed drawings and notes of machines. Just like Ryouken had predicted, this book came between the emergence of modern technology and the emergence of VR technology. The drawings were all of computers and electronic devices, with zoomed-in shots of wires and motherboards. Most of the technology Yuusaku recognised not only from his own childhood, but from the tech he had seen lying on the beach. Most curious of all was that the book wasn't even a  _ published  _ book: it was a field journal or diary, handwritten.

Spectre flipped it over.

"No author."

Ryouken took the book and flipped through it. He held it out for Yuusaku too, but even leaning closer, Yuusaku couldn't see many suspicious clues beyond the initial surprise that Lightning had come across a handwritten journal.

"Where'd you find this again?" Yuusaku asked.

"Here in the library."

"On the shelves?"

Lightning shook his head. "It was just lying on one of the desks. I don't think it belongs in the library because there's no code on the spine, but I also don't think it belongs to anyone here."

Ryouken peered over the top of the journal. "How come?"

"Because technology isn't allowed over here."

So he knew too.

"What about that computer mouse you found?" Spectre eyed up the mouse, still hanging by its cable from Ai’s hand. He'd dragged it all around much to Yuusaku's concern, and it was now covered in a sizable layer of dust and dirt, with scratches scattered across its plastic body.

Lightning shrugged. "I don't know why the technology keeps washing up on the shore."

"But you picked it up," Ryouken said, "knowing that it could hurt you."

All the other kids had been frightened, or in Ai's case foolish, but Lightning only shrugged once more. "I don't think this alone can hurt you, and besides, that book says the computer ... mouse needs electricity."

He was a smarter boy than he let on.

Ryouken flipped to another page in the book and paused, finger pressed to one particular drawing. The glass tube and boxy-like computer gave it a sci-fi feeling, but more importantly, it looked near-identical to the very same tube and computer in the submarine. The sheer detail in the drawing made it even more familiar, and the more Yuusaku stared at it, the more he could see the similarities.

Ryouken dragged his fingers along the side of the page. Littering scrawls decorated each page after, cut in places where there were sketchier designs that Yuusaku couldn't name. Nonetheless, he imagined all this tech was back in the boat; there had been hundreds of gadgets and appliances on the shelves. Yet the writing didn't say anything about the drawings, or at least as much as he could read. It was all messily scrawled together in the worst kanji he had ever seen—even worse than Kusanagi when he was hurriedly writing his delivery orders. Yuusaku had to squint to pick out the individual radicals, and stringing them together into a coherent character, much less a coherent word or sentence, seemed like a feat worthy of a medal.

"I can't even read this," Ryouken groaned, pressing his fingers into his eyes.

Yuusaku motioned for the book. If he focused, he could read it. The rattle at the back of his head began to ease, and Ai and Lightning's hushed voices diluted to white noise.

_ HAL,  _ the book read.  _ PROJECT: HAL. _

MISSING PIECE: NOT FOUND.

As Yuusaku read further, he realised that the text wasn't just letters and kanji: there were numbers too, strung together in a particular pattern that had him wracking his brain once more. There were no mathematical symbols, only numbers, so this wasn't an equation. A coordinate?

He held the book out, first for Ryouken, and then for Spectre, whose eyesight would have been better.

"Do you see the numbers?"

Spectre whistled under his breath. Yuusaku swallowed, waiting for someone to come round the corner and catch them all. For a secret trip to the library, no one was particularly quiet, and Yuusaku almost wished they'd all be caught so it would teach the children a valuable lesson on safety and secrecy. But Spectre's whistling went unnoticed it seemed, and he read the text with perfect ease.

He didn't ask the question, but Spectre still seemed to feel the need to answer.

"Half the Hanois have chicken scratch worse than this."

Ryouken nodded sullenly.

"But"—Spectre tapped a slender finger to the page—"those are coordinates and nothing else. Not binary. Not an equation. Not any sort of code."

Coordinates and the detail "not found." It wasn't much to go off of.

"Who's HAL?" Ryouken asked.

"A friend?"

Lightning peered over the top of the book to see the pages more clearly. "I don't know anyone from the village by that name."

Yuusaku nearly jumped. "The stranger then?" It would make sense why he was wandering through the forests; he was checking coordinates for something and logging them in his personal notes. Still didn't explain much, but for the first time since they'd arrived at the strange town, he felt assured he knew  _ something  _ of what was going on. Not much.

"What do you think he's looking for?" Ai asked. He'd climbed on top of the table to see the pages too, and leaning forward, his eyes glowed with delight. "Maybe this book?"

Lightning climbed up next to him. He held his chin with one fist, eyebrows furrowed together. For such a young boy, he looked like a wise old man, and Yuusaku found himself wishing that Lightning hadn't been the first victim. Then again, a dark spot in his mind wondered if Lightning had been targeted  _ specifically because  _ he was onto something, and he listened closely to the child's words.

"But why did he leave his book around then? If this mattered to him, he wouldn't have been careless and left it in the library. Perhaps he was looking for something else in here ..." At this, Lightning's gaze traveled up to the tall, ornate chandeliers hanging over their heads. They weren't even turned on—the room was lit by candles and sunlight—but Yuusaku could see the dark etching of the chandeliers' arms. "Do you think he was looking for wires?"

"Wires?" Ryouken echoed.

"Like the ones up there."

Electricity. Power. The ship they'd been on had already seemed pretty powerful, but Lightning's innocent question had raised a theory in his mind. Something must have been lacking or missing from the ship for Hal to have left and searched round the village. Furthermore, it had to have been something not in large supply, and perhaps hidden. Electricity seemed more and more reasonable the more he thought about it.

"But then that means ..." Yuusaku paused, drawing together his thoughts. "That this stranger knows just what technology is."

"Couldn't be from the city then," Ryouken said.

Spectre snorted. "Could be and they just wanted a break from technology."

Ryouken's sigh echoed through the room. "I've had a 'break from technology' and enjoyed very little of it. I doubt anyone can happily live disconnected after they've been dependent on it for their entire life."

Yuusaku wished he could have taped those words and played them back to his past self and Ryouken who had earnestly wished to escape on a harmless vacation. They would have saved themselves the headache—figuratively and not—of this entire trip.

"What a basis to go off of," was all Spectre could say first. He clasped his hands together, looking like a scientist staring down at his specimen. "But then again, this person only seems to know about early technology: boxy computers and cables and corded mice. What if he came to this town with only that degree of information and simply stayed? After all, wouldn't he be living on that big ship?"

"What big ship?" Lightning asked, but Yuusaku ignored him. His own thoughts were spinning far too much to consider derailing the entire conversation for the sake of one explanation. Spectre had made a fair point: the technology both in the book and on the ship was archaic by Den City standards, yet thirty or so years ago, just before he was born, technology would have taken on an entirely different design and purpose. Spectre was right: this person couldn't have come directly from a populated, mainstream city—but he certainly wasn't a born and raised local here either. And considering that none of the villagers recognised him despite living on that same, dry land their entire lives, it seemed rather likely that Hal, this strange man, had lived on his ship.

"How come he came to land?" Yuusaku flipped through the book, eagerly searching for another clue, another detail. The final pages were full of coordinates and "not founds," and at the end, he found only a single, blank page. No words. No coordinates. It almost looked intentionally blank, as if the book's owner was saving that final page for something special. But sadly the book didn't answer his question.

"I guess we ought to find him then," Ryouken said, and winced as he rose from the table and braced himself against the shelves.

"Lay a trap?" Spectre's eyes glimmered in the darkness. There was always a detail to Spectre that remained from his Hanoi days—his  _ terrorist _ Hanoi days, Yuusaku reminded himself. The Knights of Hanoi had long since become a small-time hacking group with a much-more-legal cover as computer software engineers. But as much as that work remained reputable, Yuusaku felt a prickle of unease whenever Spectre or Ryouken talked about traps and interrogations, or worse, danger. Neither of them were above getting their hands dirty.

He shook his head to clear the thoughts and closed the book.

Lightning reached out for it. "That's mine."

"I'll return it," he said, tucking it under his shirt where it wouldn't be quite so visible. He glanced from side to side, once more surprised that no one had seen. Without security cameras, it seemed like no one could watch ...

He blinked. Paused. Frowned. "If this is technically back in time," he said, one finger raised, "then would the cell service still be working out at the other shack?"

Ai bounced up and down on his heels, as if remembering the fun times he and Windy had had crawling through the tunnels after them. "That's the one you found too, Lightning, the one where we hid all that junk on the beach."

Lightning's eyes narrowed to thin, almond-shaped slits. "I only remember inviting Windy there."

"Well Windy showed me." Ai puffed out his little chest, but rather than appear stronger, he just looked like a silly inflated balloon.

The candlelights flickered. Lightning pinched his hands and face together, squirming under whatever he was feeling. And in the blink of an eye, he was better. Perfect even, as if nothing had gone wrong at all. He let out a gentle breath between his lips and gazed around at the adults.

"So where to now?"

"We should all go," Yuusaku said. "Splitting up in this place seems like an easy way for danger to happen, and we should all know what Kusanagi has to say."

As easily as they entered, they left again through the window. Yuusaku hadn't realised just how large the village was, but he felt the strain on his calves as they trekked all the way around the grounds to the other side of the forest. The sun disappeared the moment they slipped into the forest, and it almost became dark enough for them to need their flashlights.

Yuusaku walked at the head of the pack, followed by Ai and Lightning just behind him, and Spectre and Ryouken at the rear. Yuusaku kept glancing behind him to see how Ryouken was faring, but his stubbornness only made him seem perpetually disgruntled. Being his partner, however, Yuusaku could note the subtle slump of his shoulders and weariness to his gait; the deeper shadows not only around his eyes but along the edges of his mouth; and the way the changes in light seemed to affect him far more than anyone else. From Kusanagi's experience, a concussion wasn't deadly, but it required sleep and rest and monitoring. Out here, they had none of that.

They kept their pace steady as they trekked. With the shadows, Yusaku felt slightly more assured that they wouldn't be spotted by a villager, adult or child, out for a stroll. Still he kept his ears pricked for the sound of quieter footsteps or hushed voices—as Ai was anything but a silent-stepper or a quiet-talker.

"So if we find Hal," he asked, "should we make a sort of group call, like, I dunno, ‘POISON.’"

Lightning sighed, looking for a moment much like Ryouken whenever he heard something truly idiotic; and in fact, Ryouken was sporting that same expression, albeit with a bit more pinch to his forehead and weariness to his eyes.

"How would the word 'poison' remind us of a stranger?" Lightning asked.

Ai shrugged. "Dunno. What would you call out?"

"If I saw a stranger, I would hide and watch them," Lightning said.

"Have you?"

Lightning blinked, turning round to stare at Spectre.

“Have you seen a stranger?” Spectre asked again.

“Sometimes, someone goes into those shacks.”

“And you followed them?” Ryouken said.

Lightning glared. "No, I said I would hide and watch them—and I did. They went into the shack and out of the shack, usually early in the morning before anyone else was up. If anyone saw the stranger, then they would have followed me."

Windy then, and possibly Ai considering he seemed to go everywhere in the town.

"But it wasn't Hal," Lightning continued. "It was a kid our age—he wanders around the forest too."

A kid? Yuusaku blinked, but in the back of his mind, he remembered someone else talking about a kid. Aqua. Aqua had said she'd followed Lightning, which at the time would have been impossible considering his comatose state. They hadn't seen another figure at all, and it was the first time another child had brought up a second stranger, much less a child like them.

"Did you see them?" Yuusaku asked.

"No." Lightning toed his shoe into the rocks. "Just the back of their head."

Before the conversation could continue, the shack came into view. It looked identical to the shack Yuusaku, Ryouken, and Ai had stumbled across one morning, only without Windy coming down the path with them. In the light, it was clear as day, but Yuusaku could see that, had it been a dim morning, the thick branches and hefty leaf canopies would have cloaked it in shadow.

Lightning approached the shack with a headstrong gait. He tapped his hands to the wood, looking for the tunnel underneath. Yuusaku mimicked him. After the third tap, the trap door sprung free on its hinges and hung open to reveal a narrow tunnel. He glanced down at his duel disk, expecting the screen to alight with some service warning—yet it was still unconnected and little more than a clunky, overpriced flashlight.

Truthfully, some of them could have stayed on the surface, but wordlessly, they all followed one another down into the tunnel, with Yuusaku taking the lead. He remembered the tunnel being slightly larger and drier, as when he slipped into the bottom, he felt wet mud. For one dangerous moment, his heart leapt into his chest. The tunnel could flood. But the path was little more than thirty feet long, and he could climb out long before it flooded entirely. So he kept his breaths even and crawled forward, using his arms and legs to propel him forward. All the while, one eye remained on his duel disk's interface.

As soon as the service symbol appeared, he screeched to a halt.

Ai fell into him, then Lightning, and the traffic jam was almost comical save for Ryouken's sharp grunt.

"Quiet," Yuusaku said to them all, and dialed Kusanagi's number.

"I thought you were supposed to be disconnecting." Kusanagi's cheery voice had never sounded so clear and hopeful. Of course, to Kusanagi, his departure had only been a day or two ago; he probably sounded like some overdependent millennial bemoaning the loss of their WiFi. And by Kusanagi's chuckling laughter echoing off the walls of the tunnel, that guess was all too likely.

"Kusanagi."

He sobered at once, like the flick of a switch. 

"There are going to be disappearances in this city and I need your help researching. Service here is minimal at best."

"What do you need?"

Briefly, he flicked his gaze to Spectre and Ryouken, and to the children sitting in front of them with wide eyes. Yuusaku's duel disk was anything but high-tech—just a basic, non-holographic design with enough use to function as a cell phone—and still Ai and Lightning had gone quieter than mice, sitting with their legs crossed and their hands folded neatly in their laps. For once, they looked like well-behaved children.

Yuusaku cleared his throat. "Look up HAL. Project HAL. Or anything similar to that."

The whirring of keys made Yuusaku's heart flutter; he missed typing, and researching, and being connected. His own fingers itched to strike the keys and feel the screen flicker against his face with a thousand new images.

"No results."

"What about ships?" Spectre asked. "Big, metal ships."

Kusanagi should have been more surprised to hear Spectre's voice, or so Yuusaku thought, but he must have realised now was not the time to question trivial details.

Again: "No results."

"Really?" Spectre said, and his voice bounced down the corridor.

Kusanagi clicked his teeth together. "Well, no usable results."

Yuusaku let out a breath between his chapped lips. "What database are you on?"

"General."

"Search for Project HAL from SOL."

He could hear Spectre's retort well before the words left his lips. "But what would SOL have to do with this?"

"Zaizen Akira helped progress technology towards virtual reality, but what we're looking for is something that happened just before that. What if SOL Technologies covered up Project HAL when they made the monumental switch to VR?"

"A solid theory."

Yuusaku's heart swelled at Ryouken's praise. He heard the clack of keyboard keys once more—a function Kusanagi had installed even with the holographic keyboard—and then a deep breath. Kusanagi left them in anticipation for far too long; Yuusaku knew better than to ask, but his breath hung misty from his parted lips. It felt like he had waited far longer than a few days to learn what had happened.

"Well, you're partly right, Yuusaku." Kusanagi paused, then spoke again, in the sort of voice one might use when they weren't entirely sure of the situation. Yuusaku had never heard Kusanagi speak without confidence, and he found himself wishing for dual-display so he could see the screen too. For once, it would have been nice to have a holographic projector so that everyone in the tunnel could see.

"And?" Spectre said.

"SOL has dirt on this project, but they weren't the ones funding it."

Yuusaku didn't want to be the one to question the Knights of Hanoi, not with two of its members crammed into a dirty tunnel with him, but the question seemed to pass through the call all the same.

"Not the Hanois either."

A released breath.

"Who's funding it then?" Ryouken asked. His voice sounded clearer than before; perhaps the darkness was helping his headache and dizziness.

"Dunno." Kusanagi tapped on his keyboard again. Yuusaku could imagine the hundreds of pop-up tabs all across the stitched-together screens. When he'd first arrived in the hotdog truck, he'd barely known what the words 'monitor' and 'hard drive' meant; now, he could practically speak computer diagnostic lingo better than Japanese. Yet by Kusanagi's frequent hesitations, what was popping up on his displays wasn't typical information—and that was worrying considering the dirt they'd dug up on both SOL Technologies and the Knights of Hanoi. Anything that could stun Kusanagi was a worrisome detail.

"I don't suppose you'd be able to share why you're searching for this," Kusanagi said. "Are the channels clear?"

"Not sure," Yuusaku said, "but at this point, we’re in shit that I don't have time to get into."

Kusanagi's only remark was a soft 'aha.'

"What have you found?"

"A project, all right." The low whistle, Kusanagi's trademark 'we-are-in-deep-shit' melody. "Looks like some early research on technology, specifically on computers. I'd reckon whoever headed this project was interested in VR tech, and considering the time stamp, it was right around the same time every other computer scientist was looking at VR too. But they were ... how do I put it, not really on the ball?"

"How so?" Ryouken asked.

"I've heard enough of Zaizen Akira's TED Talks and press conferences to know that the guy, as two-faced as he is, at least knew where he was going with the discovery of VR. He knew what he needed to make it possible, and all it took was some proper funding to get SOL Technologies heading VR and Link Vrains and everything that followed after. But whoever this was, was looking at something entirely different ... Not holograms, but androids? Robots?"

"Domesticated house-bots?" They had become all the rave just after the launch of VR technology: personal house servants to help you with cooking and cleaning and general wares. Kusanagi had one of his own—Roboppi—and the sweet robot was perhaps the reason  _ Kusanagi  _ took care of himself as well as he managed his business. But from what Yuusaku remembered of domesticated house-bots, they weren't some great, hidden discovery but just the result of increased technological productivity and capitalist visionaries saying that human work could be replaced with productive robotics.

Meanwhile, Ai and Lightning had still remained quiet, lips pressed together and eyes glowing wide. Enraptured by the duel disk and the voice speaking through it, a mountain of candy could have dropped between them and they probably would have remained fixated on the device. Yuusaku wished he had thought of bringing the duel disk out sooner: set it to play music and the kids would have shut up for hours.

Kusanagi hummed once more. "Free will, actually."

The tunnel grew painfully cold.

Free will: the basis of several traumatic experiments conducted by both SOL Technologies and the Knights of Hanoi. Yuusaku could recount quite vividly the Lost Incident, a project headed by the Knights of Hanoi's leader and Ryouken’s father: Kougami Kiyoshi. Though Kusanagi hadn't mentioned the Knights of Hanoi—and had previously disregarded their connection to the strange occurrences in the town—Yuusaku still felt his heart race. Has Kougami Kiyoshi secretly headed another project? Had he dipped his dirty hands in multiple illegal experiments?

"So you're saying"—Spectre waved his hands, as if Kusanagi could see him—"that someone's looking into what the Knights of Hanoi previously discovered?"

"... perhaps." Even Kusanagi sounded strained.

"Look into my personal files then." Ryouken's voice echoed through the tunnel. "Or contact Dr. Taki, Dr. Aso, or Dr. Genome and ask them to search through the files searching for 'free will' or 'Project HAL.' They'll readily give them to you with my command."

He could hear Kusanagi's uncomfortable swallow.

"Very well," Kusanagi said. "I'll look into it. Anything else?"

"I'll keep you posted."

"Take care, Yuusaku."

He closed the call with a press of a button. Distantly, Kusanagi's voice echoed down the tunnel. After a moment, Yuusaku shuffled forward to climb out of the tunnel and tumble onto the grass. He searched the bushes for any small heads poking out from around the corners, but the only children nearby were the two entangled in the mess. Ai bounced around on his heels and leapt from stump to stump, while Lightning remained standing and clutching his mouse.

As Spectre exited the tunnel, he brushed down his trousers. "So, what do you think about that? Another experiment on free will."

"On  _ children,"  _ Yuusaku said through clenched teeth.

"We can't warn the adults; they simply won't believe us." Ryouken pressed a hand into his hair. "And I doubt these helmets will come off on our own volition."

Spectre smiled widely. "Is this a game then?"

"A sick one," Yuusaku said with a grimace. No decent human being would involve children in their dangerous experiments. As annoying as Ai and Lightning may have been, he felt like Miyu, wanting to draw them closer. Typically, physical affection repulsed him, but parental instincts told him to keep the kids close. Watch over them. If only he could see all six of them.

"Where would the other children be?" he asked Ai and Lightning.

"I dunno," Ai sai at once.

Lightning took a moment longer to think. "Aqua is always at the library or Miss Miyu's house, and Windy too. Flame is a bit of a loner, but he should be around too; sometimes he spends the afternoon at Takeru and Kiku's cafe drinking hot chocolate or coffee. And Earth ..."

Ai let out a shrill whoop. "He's right there!"

Standing on the beach, with eyes so wide, was Earth.

And as soon as he saw them, he  _ ran. _


	10. Chapter 10

For such a small boy, Earth could run faster than any child Yuusaku had ever seen. Maybe he was simply a fast runner. Maybe he was used to running away from the other children, and the likelier this theory seemed as Ai screamed, "Earth, don't worry, I'm not going to shove sand down your shirt!" Or maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through his veins after seeing not one but  _ three  _ strangers standing around with two of his friends. Whatever the reason, it propelled Earth down the beach like a torpedo. Sand flew behind his little feet, kicked up like a giant torrent. The thick sand didn't seem to hinder his speed in the slightest.

For everyone else, it was like wallowing through quicksand.

"Earth, get back here!" Ai screamed.

Yuusaku bowed his head down, powering forward.

Spectre flew ahead of him on Hermes' wings. Of the three of them, he was both the most physically fit and the one who probably had a daily exercise routine. Yuusaku could count on one hand the number of times he went to a gym post-high-school's-required-gym-class—and that number was zero.

"Earth, slow down and let us explain." Lightning was a fast runner too, and though he didn't seem to be exerting himself as much as Ai who was open-mouthed panting, Lightning still managed to keep speed with everyone. The calculated boy he was, he probably knew which spots of the sand offered the least resistance.

Through it all, Earth ran as fast as he could.

They weren't going to catch him before he made it back to the town. Yuusaku ran through the scenarios in his head. The villagers wouldn't be keen on seeing any strangers, but if he hid his duel disk they might suspect him less. They'd need to feign innocence too and pray that Earth didn't say, "Those strange men were chasing me down the beach." If not, the next scenario would be to run further down the beach and hide in the forest. The adults would be looking for them then, making the search for the children all the more harder. They wouldn't be able to keep an eye on them, and most likely Earth would tell Aqua and Flame; none of the children would trust them. And they couldn't simply stop chasing Earth now—the damage had already been done.

"Earth, I promise! I promise these guys are good." Ai's cries fell on deaf ears.

Yuusaku heaved a breath. The sand only seemed to be getting deeper and Earth showed no signs of stopping.

That is, until he sharply veered to the side, looking like he was running across the water.

Yuusaku’s stomach dropped.

"Earth!" Ryouken roared. "Get off—" He coughed, retched, and was on his knees a moment later coughing up whatever was left in his stomach. His knees hit the sand with a dull thud, and Yuusaku tore his eyes away from Earth just long enough to see Ai stop, turn, and bellow, "He's spewing!"

Spectre moved forward unperturbed.

Yuusaku drove his heels into the sand. Stop for Ryouken or go after Earth? His heart pulled in a hundred different directions, some of them making his stomach churn. He half-expected himself to be hunched over and retching too.

"Yuu—Yuusaku, go." Ryouken pushed at him, even though, if Ryouken could raise his head and stop gasping and retching, he would have seen that there was a clear twenty feet between them. Yet Yuusaku turned all the same.

Earth was running across one of the spider-like bridge heading towards the ship. The change in terrain hadn't affected his speed one bit, and though he looked positively petrified, he looked no more frightened than he had been on the sand. Considering the children's typical reactions to foreign objects and technology, Yuusaku thought he should have been treading far more carefully.

Spectre made it onto the bridge first, shoes making a painful clang that echoed along the shore. Earth's subsequent 'eep' was even louder.

"Kiddo, we're not after you, I mean, we are, but you see here—"

Yuusaku leapt onto the bridge and dashed past Spectre. Words weren't going to soothe Earth. Not like words soothed him, and certainly not as the poor child was being pursued. So Yuusaku ran at top speed and cycled through the scenarios once more. Grab the kid. Bring him into the water. Hold him steady and explain what was going on. If he couldn't grab the kid, pursue him as far as he ran. Surely Earth wouldn't find the door leading into the ship, but if he did, Yuusaku knew the layout far better than the child. He could plan where to run.

Nowhere in his plans did he expect to see Hal. The man stood tall at what could only have been the entrance to the ship, both feet planted on the entrance hatch. He had his arms hung out on either side of him, but his unflappable expression had been twisted slightly as he watched Earth run towards him. Yuusaku found that face worrisome. He was unreadable. Incomprehensible. Whatever Hal planned to do, Yuusaku could not prepare for it.

Earth slammed to a halt before he made it to the portal. He swung his head from side to side, as if looking for another bridge to hop onto, or perhaps a conveniently-placed platform that would take him far away. Yuusaku had never seen the children swim before. If Earth jumped, would he sink like a rock? Would he float like pumice?

Another scenario: he'd dive in after Earth and rescue him.

Spectre was hot on his heels, having charged on and resumed his quick pace. Were they alone, Yuusaku might have conversed strategies; Spectre listened well to instructions. But something about Hal had Yuusaku worried that he could hear them.

Hal moved closer to Earth. "Child, please follow me."

Earth took a step back, shaking his head to and fro.

"I must complete my research. Please, follow me."

Earth took another step back at the same time as Yuusaku grabbed Earth. He caught him by the wrist and tugged him round. As expected, Earth swung himself even  _ further  _ around like some wild top, or as if he had no bones to begin with, forcing Yuusaku to cling tightly to him. Throughout it all, Earth didn't say a peep. No "no!" No crying. No indication that he truly was in danger, but he avoided it like the plague, tugging at Yuusaku's hand and trying to pry his fingers off.

Hal moved forward again. And again.

"You must not interfere," he said in a clear, monotone voice. Obviously the height of the situation hadn't occurred to him yet.

"You might not want to get involved either then," Spectre said back. "How about taking those helmets off our heads? We know this is a simulation. Or are we relevant to your research too?"

Hal shook his head. "My research is incomplete. But this child ..." He tilted his head towards Earth, who cowered with his eyes pinched closed.

Yuusaku drew Earth behind him. "Does this have to do with Project HAL?"

Hal blinked.

"You can't learn about free will if you're capturing  _ children.  _ And that awful mission happened long ago. It's done. Over. You can't hurt ..." He swallowed round the glass in his throat, feeling it tear into his chest. "You can't take another child."

"You following Hanoi orders?" Spectre asked.

"I am not."

"SOL Technologies?"

"I am not."

"Then get out."

But Hal didn't move.

They did.

Yuusaku dropped to his knees as the bridge began to swing from side to side like the limb of an octopus. It bent at its sides, revealing large clasps that allowed it to bend just like a mechanical tentacle, only the metal was slick with water. Yuusaku wrapped his arms and legs round the sides, having to stretch himself out like a stick figure. If he reached out, he could hold both sides and steady himself.

He didn't have to tell Earth to hold tightly; the child clung to his leg with his nails buried through the fabric and into his skin.

Ahead of them, Hal wasn't holding anything. Or doing anything. He was standing at the main body of the ship watching the mechanical limb swing from side to side like some bizarre attraction. Ever so softly, he whispered, "Thank you."

Then the bridge  _ jumped _ —leapt into the air, tossing Yuusaku, Spectre, and Earth. They expected to land in the water, or worse on the bridge, but when he opened his eyes, he was on some sort of flotation device. Where it had come from, he couldn't discern, but the raucous thunder he heard came not from Hal or anything else odd about the ship.

It was from Ryouken running at them full force.

The bridge bounced once more, but Ryouken leapt at the same time, squeezing his eyes shut. To Yuusaku's relief, Ryouken landed knees-first onto the bridge once more, and this time he clung to it with all his strength. Sweat dripped down his pale face.

"That's ... enough of that."

Hal tilted his head to the side. "Perhaps once more."

Yuusaku waited for Hal to move or press some hidden button within his ivory-white jacket. But he didn't move a muscle.

With a gasp, Yuusaku clenched his wrist. His duel disk's screen was fuzzy and distorted, and the metal itself was hotter than the sun. Thick, white blisters popped round his wrist. His first instinct was to shove his hand into the ocean, but even the chilly, near-winter water couldn't cool down the lava-like burning. Without any other choice, he yanked off the duel disk and threw it out into the water.

Through all the pain, he hadn't heard anyone else. But then Spectre's duel disk went sailing over his head. Spectre clutched his wrist with a grimace; through his fingers, Yuusaku could see similar, angry welts.

He swung round to see Ryouken. No duel disk. He'd left his back at the inn before the simulation, and hence hadn't come with one.

A smile flickered over Ryouken's pale lips. "Can't ... get me."

The tentacle rose once more. It lifted Ryouken up towards the clouds, and Yuusaku felt himself shut down, one nerve at a time.

Was Hal going after Ryouken? He couldn't give up Earth. But he couldn't lose Ryouken either.

Ryouken jumped. The tentacle sailed down after him, and whether Ryouken landed or the tentacle pushed him under the surface, Yuusakuku never saw.

He dove head-first into the water. Salt pricked his eyes and his already-heaving lungs screamed the moment he went under. He forced his eyes open, biting back the pain across his face. It didn't matter. It  _ couldn't  _ matter. Ryouken couldn't swim, and even if the tentacle hadn't sent him to the ocean floor, there was no chance he'd make it up on his own.

Through the stinging, salty water, he could only make out hazy shapes. He reached out for the first piece of white and groaned as his hands met frothy bubbles. Again, he reached out. This time, his fingers met sopping fabric. Kicking as hard as he could, he grabbed onto whatever felt like Ryouken and hauled them both to the surface.

Only ... he couldn't.

Something had attached to Ryouken—a wire of some sort—and held him tightly beneath the surface. Yuusaku craned his neck back, but he couldn't reach the surface either, even when he kicked his legs back and forth. Weakly, Ryouken squirmed beneath him, no doubt trying to free himself. Yuusaku pulled at the wires. Tried to pry his fingers between the opening. The longer he treaded in water, the achier his lungs became.

He couldn't free Ryouken. Couldn't save him. He bit down on the wire, only to feel his jaw begin to slacken and his vision blur. The helmet was going back on his head. It had never left. With the last of his strength, Yuusaku yanked Ryouken up over his shoulders. If only one of them could get a proper breath. If only one of them could reach the surface.

Someone grabbed hold of his shoulder and hauled him. He clung to Ryouken, refusing to let even a centimetre separate their bodies. Above him came the warbled voices of several people, and then someone else jumped into the water and grabbed Ryouken. Blindly, Yuusakuku pulled them both away, lashing out at the figure.

The cord snapped beneath them.

In a surge of hidden strength, Yuusaku pushed himself up towards the hand reaching out for him. He couldn't tell when he broke the surface; he was gasping long before he tumbled out of the water and onto the wooden floor. He coughed and choked out the water in his lungs, and next to him, Ryouken lie still.

Still.

Pale.

Yuusaku grabbed Ryouken, but another pair of hands got to him first. They rolled him onto his side and drained the water from his mouth and nose. As soon as the first drips rolled over Ryouken's still lips and chin, he choked. Coughed. And the began to heave all the water that had filled his lungs. Were he not coughing as well, Yuusaku would have embraced him and held him close. Colour returned to Ryouken's face like the return of the sun; in fact, were it not for the near-death experience, the sunlight would have shone beautifully over their features.

Wearily, Yuusaku raised his head. Spectre sat down on the floor, wrapped tightly in a thick, woollen blanket. Ai, Earth, and Lightning sat at his feet, equally well cared for. Neither of them looked capable of speaking a single word, but there was reassurance in their eyes that couldn't have been there if they were kidnapped. Something had happened ...

A sopping wet, shivering Takeru. With his hair slicked back, he looked like a new resident of the town, and yet when he smiled, Yuusaku remembered that very same expression when he first arrived in the town. This Takeru wouldn't have known them, and yet he was all-too-generously wrapping Yuusaku in blankets and toweling off his hair. Words tumbled from Takeru's lips, and Yuusaku responded to him in equally-slurred Japanese. Somehow through their prattle he heard Takeru say, "Thank you."

He blinked. Water clung to his bottom lip and he brushed it aside and coughed heavily. "Thank ... you?"

"Hey, hey." Takeru patted his shoulder once; Yuusaku pulled the blanket tighter around him, reeling away from the touch. Takeru leaned back as well. "Save your voice. You're all right."

Out on the water, he couldn't see the tentacle or the ship  _ or  _ Hal. All the evidence had sunk to the bottom of the ocean. A pit of worry built in his stomach until he remembered this was a simulation. It wasn't real. And whatever happened here wouldn't affect the real them, or so he assumed. Still, it was strange to see a Takeru not doubting their existences or fighting with Ryouken. This Takeru had Ryouken by the shoulders, helping him out of his sweater and wrapping a thick blanket round his shivering body. Not a single doubt was in his eyes. This Takeru trusted them wholeheartedly.

With a wince, Yuusaku rubbed at his wrist. Was the duel disk what had frightened the villagers all alone? Without it on their wrists, Yuusakuku felt like he was missing a limb. But he relaxed slightly as Takeru crouched in front of him.

"I'm taking you back to the cafe, all right? Everyone here."

Tiredly, Yuusaku nodded.

The wooden boat lurched, groaned, and then a gentle lap bounced off the surface. Takeru had two oars that he used to paddle, each made of solid, slick wood and longer than his arms. He pulled them forwards and back, and the little rowboat chugged along. It wasn't fast though; Yuusaku wondered just how long Takeru had been racing out to help them before Hal had moved the mechanical arm. In all his panic, he hadn't bothered to check the coast for any saviours in sight. He'd been too preoccupied watching Hal, Earth, and Ryouken and trying to formulate a plan that wouldn't put the group in danger.

Now the sea was silent. There was no indication any calamity had ever befell the beach. The water was stiller than sand, lying flat like a glossy mirror. The boat's bow and oars disturbed the peace with only minute ripples. As Takeru paddled, Yuusaku felt his head begin to tip back and his eyes roll closed.

He shook himself awake quickly, panic seizing his heart.

"You're all good," Takeru said, pulling the oars towards him. The boat responded by rocking forward.

"Did you see ..."

"Later," Takeru said, and a shadow fell over his blue eyes.

Yuusaku followed Takeru's gaze to the three children sitting at the front of the boat, sharing one large blanket around their shaking shoulders. He pressed his lips together and nodded solemnly.

When they made it back to the beach, Yuusaku felt like it was the situation with Aqua all over again—only it wasn't just the children being ushered away by Miyu. Kiku grabbed Ryouken as he tumbled out of the boat, snagged Spectre by his shirt collar, and shooed Yuusaku up towards the town centre; all with the strength and leadership of a shepherd leading a flock of sheep. Takeru fell into line with him, fussing with the blanket.

Kiku tossed another blanket over Takeru’s head.

"Don't just take care of others, silly! You're going to catch your death."

Takeru chuckled weakly and followed along.

As they stepped into the cafe, Yuusaku felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him. He hadn't been to the cafe often, and in fact it had only been a few days since this wild vacation had all began. But seeing the warm, candlelit interior brought a weak smile to his lips. The mismatched tables and chairs still had their odd charm, and though Takeru and Kiku must have ran out the door after them, there was still a rich coffee smell floating through the air.

Kiku yanked at their blankets. "Out of your wet clothes, all of you. Did you go for a swim?"

"Those two," Takeru said, motioning to Yuusakuku and Ryouken.

"Then you'll be in the shower together."

Yuusaku fought back a shiver and Ryouken clenched his teeth tightly, holding onto the blanket like a lifeline.

Spectre whistled lowly.

Something about the way Kiku brought him and Ryouken to the bathroom told Yuusaku that she knew they were a couple. Maybe it was the way she walked slowly, swinging her hips from side to side. Maybe it was the way she slowly opened the door to reveal the completely basic bathroom. Maybe it was the way she said, "I imagine you'll be able to take care of yourselves," before she closed the door.

Yuusakuku stood in the bathroom, feeling like every muscle in his body was clenching and unclenching at the same time. Next to him, Ryouken was still breathing heavily.

Quite the romantic moment.

He knew better than to slam on the hot water and roast himself; he wouldn't be able to tell how hot the temperature was until his skin turned as red as the welts on his wrist. Slowly, he turned the dial into the middle and let the water turn warmer. At least they had running water in the inn.

He brought his hand towards the water and hissed. Colder than  _ fucking  _ ice.

But while his body was locked and shivery, his brain was functioning fine, and he knew he needed to get into the water. He yanked at his wet, sticky clothing, prying them one fold at a time from his body. His limbs were pale, pockmarked with pink dots that must have been his blood furiously rushing to warm him up. Once he was out of his clothing, he helped Ryouken with his attire. With his bent fingers, he could hardly grip the hem of his shirt to lift it over his head, or undo his jean's button and shimmy out of the wet trousers.

Once they were undressed, stark naked and white, like two reclusive wraiths having never seen the light of day, Yuusaku tugged Ryouken into the shower with him. The handle was extendable to allow them to hose each other down, but Yuusakuku worried his locked fingers wouldn't be able to grip anything, and so they stood under the stream, heads bowed.

He could feel each droplet like a needle piercing his skin.

Slowly, he brought his forehead down to Ryouken's shoulder. Firm, taut muscle rested against his brow, rising and falling with each of Ryouken's breaths. Yuusaku breathed against Ryouken's breast. His lips brushed over hair and skin, and salty water that coursed from their bodies onto the tile floor. The water never felt warmer, but the closer their bodies melded together, the pinkier his skin turned.

"This is a m-much better introduction to this shithole of a town," Ryouken said. His chin had tilted down and his lips pressed against the crown of Yuusaku's head.

"Much better." He drew a hand to Ryouken's chest, then up to his forehead.

"Don't ask me how I'm feeling. I don't even know myself."

Yuuskau hummed in understanding, and made a mental note to ask Takeru or Kiku who or what in the village could treat minor concussions.

But at the moment, he was needy. Indulgent. He wanted Ryouken to never let go of him, for them to never have to leave the shower. In a strange, make-the-most-of-the-worst sort of way, he wished their vacation had begun like this: in the warm shower, limbs entangled, breath misty, voices sultry. They were only in this scenario because of unfortunate, panic-inducing circumstances, but he could forget that for a moment—the moment ended when cold water ran down his spine and he arched back, hissing.

"I don't suppose you saw what happened," he said, keeping his voice low. Takeru and Kiku trusted them, but nosiness was a genetic trait in this entire town. Then again, Spectre was probably out there blabbing the entire mission to them. He took risks.

Ryouken growled deep in his throat. "Something about tentacles ..." And then a laugh, damn him.

Truthfully, that was all Yuusaku could remember either. Hal hadn't said much, and other than go after Earth, he hadn't done much more. But they hadn't activated the moving bridge, or so he thought. No finger snapping or voice commands—and not that those should have existed within a ship built pre-VR.

He winced as Ryouken's hand rubbed over his wrist.

"How'd he hack into your duel disk?"

Magic seemed like the only possibility, and considering the simulation, anything could happen here.

"Would Hal be able to attack our duel disks from the other side of the simulation?" Yuusaku asked. "Then again, if he can hurt us, why not simply immobilise us?"

"Like a head injury?" Ryouken muttered, but he sobered at once. "Did anyone touch your duel disk?"

Yuusakuku shook his head. Even if the kids had fiddled with it, nothing should have caused it to overheat and burn him so badly. Duel disks were programmed with cooling features, and the device itself hardly processed enough to even need to cool down. It was just a glorified smart phone with a dueling feature, nothing more.

"What caused those metal tentacles to move then?" he asked. "Same thing?"

"Could be."

He was beginning to feel warmer now, and pressed against him, Ryouken was just as hot. Were they not recovering from cold water exposure, he would have cranked the temperature up and fried them both under lava-hot shower water. Maybe the heat would burn away the paranoia too. Maybe it would help them figure out just how ~electricity~ had managed to both make a standstill ship bend its metal limbs like some robotic insect and overheat his duel disk.

"Hal was talking about how he needed to complete his results. Do you think he's looking for what he recorded in that book?"

"For the book, or for results that he could put in the book?"

"Results." Yuusaku rubbed at his head, feeling the titillating ache of a headache. "If he was looking for 'free will' pre-Link Vrains, then ... were those moving limbs operating of their own volition?"

"That's ridiculous." Ever the skeptic.

Still, Yuusaku wondered. "How else would those limbs have moved? And you've seen Roboppy before—she operates with free will."

"She  _ operates  _ with well-programmed technology, but if you told her to clean the kitchen or travel to the edge of the universe or self destruct, she'd have no choice but to obey your command. That's not free will." Ryouken released a stiff breath, and a hand settled along Yuusaku's shoulder. "But perhaps we should look into just what happened on the bridge to the boat."

Separating both from each other and from the hot water left Yuusaku feeling cold and achy in an entirely new way. He flexed his fingers and cracked his back, surprised to find his joints not has locked as he had expected. He hadn't been in the water long anyways.

Before Kiku had left, she had set at the side of the bathroom towels and spare changes of clothes. The clothing must have come from Takeru, and while it fit—with Ryouken's attire only being a bit short at the wrists and ankles, just like the fool liked it—the designs were all clashing and tacky and giving Yuusaku nightmares. He had to be seen ... in this? Pants with pockets on the knees? White track suit? What was this, Akiba-kei? But the clothing, damn it, was warm and soft from wear, and smelling of coffee.

When they left the bathroom, the cafe was full of chatter despite having only three people sitting round the table. If one hadn't known that, not an hour ago, they had been saved from drowning and were currently trapped in some strange simulation, the scenario would have looked perfectly normal. Takeru, Kiku, and Spectre were sitting round a pentagon-shaped table nursing mugs of hot tea. A tempting platter of rolls, croissants, and cross buns sat as a golden centrepiece. Yuusaku's stomach rumbled in anticipation.

Kiku spun round in her seat, leaning her cheek against the chair's back. "Look at you, all warm and cosy now."

"Come sit," Takeru said, beckoning them to the chairs. "I'll get you tea—"

"Black coffee," Yuusaku said.

Ryouken cleared his throat with a rattling cough. "And one with milk and sugar."

"On it." Takeru headed off to the kitchen, arms swinging and hips bouncing. Yuusaku watched him go, not quite sure that he had seen that scene correctly at all. Laidback? Easygoing?After what had happened? He and Ryouken seemed to be the only two carrying the weight of the situation on their shoulders.

When Takeru returned with their mugs, the room grew sombre and quiet. Shadows stretched across the walls. A chill crept across the floor—not one that would freeze him, but an eerie feeling that they had settled into an entirely new environment. Kiku and Takeru nursed their mugs, letting the steam curl from the top of the cup and touch their pinched cheeks.

"What was that out there?" Takeru wasn't accusing them of anything, and he didn't sound quite so defensive as he had during the first time they'd met, but there was an air of caution surrounding his words. Yuusaku didn't miss how closely Takeru and Kiku were sitting to each other, as if they were both prepared to leap to their feet and defend one another.

Back then, they had lied. Danced around the topic. Withheld information. And it had only weakened the strained relationship between them, the Den City residents, and the villagers.

"A ship," Yuusaku said.

"And did you know it was out there?" Kiku asked.

"Yes."

She pressed on. "And how to get to it?"

"Yes."

Takeru steepled his hands in front of him. His hair had long since dried, and it hung limply in front of hardened eyes. This had to have been the same Takeru they met when they first came to the village, but he was braver. Sturdier. A conversation about technology and electronics would have frightened the previous Takeru and he would have shut the conversation down at once, but both Takeru and Kiku listened intently, and while they spoke up, they seemed eager to hear whatever Yuusaku, Ryouken, and Spectre had to say. It was an improvement Yuusaku had never expected.

"What about the children?" Takeru asked. "What were they doing there?"

"You might want to ask them," Ryouken said. But then, he added, "At least, ask the short one. Earth, I think. He ran when he spotted us."

"Well, visitors aren't that common here." Kiku threaded her hands together, fussed with them some more, and then settled for cupping her mug. Her watery smile shone a glimmer of light on the table separating them. "But what about the others?"

"They told us they were researching a book—field notes on a top-secret project. It appears it came into Lightning's possession." Spectre, ever the smooth talker, motioned for Yuusaku to hand over the book. He passed it to Takeru and Kiku without an iota of hesitation. "When we saw them with it, we told them what we knew."

So not the full truth ...

Takeru raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"That man on the ship—the blond man—is going after your children. He's conducting a study with them, and while we're not entirely sure what, we do know that the children are in danger. All of them."

Takeru repressed a tight shiver; the book's pages rustled together like thin leaves. Kiku patted him on the shoulder, and with her other hand drew a finger to the page.

"These are ... coordinates?"

"Do you recognise them?"

"I recognise they're coordinates, but as to where exactly ..." She rose from her seat and returned with a long tube of paper. Rolling it out revealed a map as wide as the table, thin and wrinkled. It looked like a prop for a pirate captain to use, and yet Takeru let out a little 'aha' of understanding and muttered, "So it wasn't at Miyu's house, I knew it." He and Kiku crouched over the map and began to drag their fingers from line to line, sometimes using both hands.

Yuusaku blinked in surprise. They were locating the coordinates in the journal. He hadn't learnt how to read a map, much less how to find coordinates. He didn't even recognise any of the landscape—it was a hand-drawn map of simply the north coast, and nowhere was there any spot saying 'this is the village' or 'this is the train station.' Just bumpy lines and strange markings that Takeru and Kiku read as easily as one would read in their mother tongue.

Takeru leapt from the table, shocking them both.

"Need tacks!"

"We won’t be putting tacks in this map!" Kiku called back. "Get the stickers."

What Takeru returned with were little sections of paper and a roll of tape. Any other time, Yuusaku would have asked where a primitive village got  _ tape  _ from, but he was far too interested in where Takeru was sticking them. Kiku pointed to sections on the map, locating them with the effortlessness of a cartographer, and Takeru stuck a sticker over the mark and wrote the exact coordinates with a pen. Soon, the map filled with dozens, or dare he imagine hundreds, of stickers. Hal truly had searched everywhere for whatever he was looking for. Seeing the stickers only further proved his point as they stretched from every corner of the map, over the bumps and along the coast.

Spectre whistled lowly. "Must've been looking for a while."

"You must have seen him while he was out searching," Ryouken said.

"Have you been here before?" Takeru asked, pen pinched between his teeth. His question sounded innocent enough, but Yuusaku still felt a pang of worry. Nothing could go wrong. They couldn't lose Takeru and Kiku's trust.

"When I reconnect with nature," Spectre said with a shrug.

Takeru popped another three stickers down on the map. By now, there were only small patches of the map not covered by a sticker, and Kiku had to lift them up to put down more markers.

"Does the book say what the guy was looking for?"

"Not really," Ryouken said.

"Maybe he's looking for the cursed ship."

Kiku had said it so casually it nearly slipped past Yuusaku, but he wheeled back in surprise. "A ship?"

"A  _ cursed  _ ship," Takeru repeated with a shiver. "And not any ship that should be sailing these seas."

Ryouken pressed his hands down on the table. "And what about this ship?"

Kiku paused her searching, one finger pressed to a coordinate on the map. Her bottom lip wobbled slightly. "It's just a legend ..."

Ryouken leant closer. "I'd like to hear about it."

Takeru picked at the little pieces of paper in his hands, refusing to meet any of their gazes. Whatever had startled Kiku and Takeru must have been something as frightening as the technology floating up on the shore—they wore the same, frightened expression as they had on that first day. Both of them brought their hands under this armpits, too afraid to touch or even  _ look  _ at the map.

Kiku spoke up in a whisper of a voice. "There's a legend from a few towns south—about a cursed metal ship that swims the seas like a fierce predator. If you even look at it, or dare go near it, it'll take your soul and send it to the bottom of the ocean."

"Quite the tale," Spectre said.

Takeru nodded grimly. "But it's just a bad tale, and it wouldn't come up here."

"Why?" Yuusaku asked.

Kiku blinked at him, long and hard. "Well ... well it just wouldn't. We live quite simply here, and I can't imagine a cursed ship having anything to do with a little town."

By the fear in her eyes, Yuusaku he ought not to press any further.

"But this ship exists." Ryouken hadn't given up a shred, and despite the concussion, he looked even better than before. Could a grisly tale really bring him back to life?

"No," Kiku said, shaking her head back and forth.

"Then how come you said that this ship 'wouldn't have anything to do with your town?' That's not denying the ship exists; that's simply proving that you don't think the ship will go after  _ you."  _ Ryouken folded his hands neatly in front of him, ever the cold, calculated man. "And I believe those two phrases are rather different."

Yuusaku prayed that Takeru wouldn't leap over the table and strangle Ryouken. Or Kiku for that matter. This couldn't be how they once more lost the villagers' trust, not after gently building up the relationship and not giving them the shock of their lives by showing up with VR duel disks. But instead, Takeru and Kiku only folded into one another like a pair of nesting dolls. They shook like one innocent, frightened being.

"What is this ship like?" Ryouken asked. “It obviously doesn’t just float in the water—there are coordinates on land too.”

"Cursed," Takeru said, having to clear his voice just to get the single word out.

"You said that already." Ryouken pointed to one of the coordinates on the map. It was placed towards the coastline, likely where the metal ship they'd seen had docked. "Surely this tale tells you what the cursed ship looked like?"

Kiku was as pale as a ghost, and not even all the lights in the cafe could spark colour to her cheeks. "Metal—built from the sea and the land.”

"And?"

"It's ... it's just a tale. A tale of a cursed, metal ship that can move on its own."

"Like free will?" Spectre said, and hummed in pleasure when Takeru and Kiku nearly jumped a foot in the air.  _ That  _ was unexpected and suspicious. Unless these two were avid psychology and philosophy majors, these two shouldn't have been anything but confused. But Kiku looked worst of all, like she was seeing a horde of ghosts behind them, ready to slaughter them on the spot. He had his own unfortunate experiences with free will—and more specifically, experiments on how to reproduce free will—but of all the information they'd gathered from Hal, none of it pointed to the Lost Incident. Whatever Hal was interested in was entirely new.

And somehow, Kiku seemed to know something about it.

"What do you know of free will?" Ryouken asked.

"Only that the cursed ship moves on its own, like it’s possessed."

"Like it's operating on free will." Ryouken smiled, only to duck his head down and groan. Yuusaku patted a hand on his shoulder.

Spectre tapped a finger to his chin. "You don't know much about free will, Takeru, do you?"

Takeru balked. "No, not the kind that would be on the ship—"

"But you do." Spectre pointed to Kiku, who wilted under his stare. "You're knowledgeable about this subject much in the same way we are, so am I to assume ..." He tapped his chin. "You weren't born here?"

Kiku nodded stiffly, as if someone was pushing her head up and down. Yuusaku couldn't stop staring at Spectre—just how had he deduced that? Now that Yuusaku was thinking, he could remember Takeru saying that he'd lived here all of his life, and hadn't Kiku said she moved here later on. But he'd never paid that detail any attention, not in the wake of the abductions. Even if Kiku were as technophobic as the other villagers, she likely would have seen computers and digital phones in her lifetime. No other village could be this disconnected.

"You speak as if you've seen technology advance," Spectre said. "Your friend there is frightened because he doesn't understand, but you're frightened because you  _ do." _

"And what do you know about technology?" Ryouken asked.

Kiku seemed trapped in a spotlight—electrifying and dizzying and leaving her swaying on the spot. Her glassy eyes grew wider and wider, but she didn't cry, only seemed to be falling back into her thoughts.

Then she sighed. "It's been a long time since I lived in my seaside town."

Yuusaku tipped his head towards the map. At the bottom right corner was a little dot; originally, he'd assumed it was to mark a hill, or perhaps a small forest. But now that he looked more closely, he could see a scribbled name in the corner: Hinosei-toshi.

The town of the mythical fire lizard.

"I was born there, and moved here when I met Takeru on the beach."

"Was it really all that long ago?" Spectre asked.

"There are some memories I don't want to recall," Kiku said, and Spectre held his tongue. "There's no legend of the cursed ship, at least not when I recall the tale. It wasn't a legend. A cursed ship came to the shores of Hinosei and took someone."

"An abduction?" Yuusaku felt his blood run cold, and even the steamiest shower wouldn't be able to soothe him. Still, he held his tongue. The abductions had frightened Kiku; they would for anyone. But more than fear glowed in her eyes—trauma. Loss. Yuusaku had seen the expression in his own, haunted face when he woke up sweat-slicked, voice raw and breath rank. As much as he wanted to learn the truth, he couldn't push Kiku simply to recall those memories. And he certainly couldn't let Ryouken and Spectre push on.

Gently, he set a hand on Ryouken's shoulder. Squeezed. Ryouken relaxed back into his grip. Held his tongue. His eyes were elsewhere, held on Spectre who, as ruthless as he could be, was a loyal associate and friend. He wouldn't overstep his boundaries simply to get to the root of the problem.

"How about I find you the book?" Takeru said. He wrapped an arm around Kiku's shoulders and pressed a chaste kiss on her forehead. His chair squeaked as he pushed back. Yuusaku followed him, waiting to see just where he disappeared to, but Takeru only returned with a fresh mug of tea for Kiku. Once more, he kissed her.

"Well then," he said, clapping his hands together. "Follow me."

When Yuusaku had fallen in the water with Aqua, and Takeru and Kiku had offered their bedroom to him, he remembered three doors. When they'd offered the bathroom and kitchen, he still remembered three doors. But down the hallway at the back, tucked within the shadow of a corner, was a fourth door, made of wood with a rather ornate metal handle. Takeru flinched when he touched it, and opened the door so slowly it  _ screamed  _ on its hinges.

Down the steps looked like a drop to the centre of the Earth. Takeru grabbed one of candles from the sconces; their dim light lit only a patch on the first step, and when Takeru waved the light to and fro like some wild torch, it could only light the three steps in front of them. Thus, they stepped carefully, one at a time. The hairs on the back of Yuusaku's neck rose each time Ryouken sighed or groaned, or worse swayed and had to hold onto the wall. Not that he wasn't most concerned about his partner's health, but that, if Ryouken did fall, he and Takeru would be tumbling down the steps with him. There were no handrails along the steps, nor was there a single candle or sconce to guide them down. Yuusaku didn't even realise they'd reached the bottom until Takeru held the candle to the side, illuminating part of a bookcase. A rather old, leaning bookcase made of weathered wood nailed together most hastily. How the books were staying on it and hadn't toppled it like a children's sandcastle was a greater mystery than how such a place could exist beneath the cafe, but Yuusaku kept his tongue still as he watched Takeru wander down the shelves, dragging his finger over each of the old books’ spines.

"And they didn't think to mention this the first time?" Ryouken muttered into his ear.

"Not like we were on truthful speaking terms with them," Yuusaku said.

With only one candle, they had to shuffle close to Takeru to see what was in the room. Yuusaku couldn't tell how big it was, or how far beneath the cafe they were. If he were Takeru, he would have examined the entire space, yet Takeru seemed to know just where to go.

With a soft aha, he dislodged a dusty, grey tome—and promptly sneezed and dropped it to the floor.

Yuusaku scooped it up and brushed the dust from the cover. Without the dust acting like a blanket, the book didn't appear quite so old and weathered. In fact, it looked well published. Had Kiku's hometown been as modern as Den City? The books in the library here were anything  _ but  _ manufactured. But here on the shelves, underneath all the dust, was perhaps a rather modern library.

Takeru wiped his nose on his sleeve. One eye ventured to the bookshelves, and Ryouken followed his gaze. He brushed a finger over the top of a book, revealing that the book simply was just dirty and not an ancient tome.

"I don't remember seeing these books on the library shelves."

"They're Kiku's."

Spectre pulled out a different volume and flipped through the pages. "All of them?"

"And Miyu's ..."

Yuusaku felt like he was missing a detail he  _ knew  _ he'd never clued into.

"The three of us together ..." Takeru wound his hands together, cheeks dusting to an even brighter shade of pink. "Well, it wasn't like I just liked  _ one  _ of them, and they liked each other  _ and  _ me, and so ..."

He had one second to cover his mouth before he choked. Not laughed, he would never laugh, and especially not at someone's personal life. But Takeru was visibly pink, and the candlelight only accentuated just how flustered he was becoming. He kept shifting his gaze to anything else in the basement. He ended up staring guiltily at his feet.

"So the three of you are a couple then?" Ryouken crossed his arms.

"The more the merrier," Spectre added in a happy trill.

Takeru's face couldn't seem to decide whether it wanted to smile or grimace, and in the end, he pushed his face into his hands and groaned. So Takeru got flustered about his love life. The more they spent in this odd simulation, the more Yuusaku learnt about the village and its villagers.

"So these are both Kiku and Miyu's books?" Yuusaku asked.

"From their hometown, yes."

"And what's so special about that one?" Ryouken asked, motioning to the book in Takeru's hands.

Takeru clenched it tightly to his chest. "It's true. What happened in the book." Slowly, he opened the pages. The dust had slipped between the cracks, and the rims of the pages were too dirty to see what exactly what written—but fortunately, what was written didn't seem to matter, not to Takeru as he scanned the photographs taped to the slippery pages: photos of the shore; of the single, great arm; of the wires littered across the surface; and of the little, blond haired boy. He was facing away from the camera, but while he resembled Lightning, at a second glance the differences were more remarkable: the curl of hair at the back of his head, his smaller stature, and the way he had his arms behind his back and no doubt his hips swinging a bit as he walked out into the middle of the sea.

"You see, he's walking on the water," Takeru began.

"I've seen that before."

"You ... have?" Takeru looked from the book to Ryouken, as if trying to discern whether or not they were seeing the same image. In the end, he merely returned to flipping through the pages. Like the field journal, this book was handmade—beautifully handmade and with a cover intricately binding the pages that, at first glance, made the book looked professionally published.

At the back of the book were the first paragraphs Yuusaku had seen within the pages.

_ Once, there was a little boy who ventured to a far away land in search of his Will. He wanted to live for himself. He wanted to  _ be  _ himself. And so one day he walked across the still water to the centre of the ocean where he found a tunnel.  _

_ But when he peered inside, he did not find his Will. _

_ Once, there was a man who ventured to a far away land in search of his brother. He too had lost his Will, but he knew it was with his brother. He wanted to live with his brother. He wanted to  _ be  _ a good brother. And so one day he walked across the sandy beach, down to the tip of the wiry coast. _

_ But when he got to the end, he did not find his brother. _

Hal. But then ... which one was Hal? Was Hal the large or little man? They'd only ever met the large man, but now that Yuusaku thought about it, they had never asked him his name. They'd simply assumed he could only be Hal.

"That little boy." Ryouken flicked back to the picture of the blond haired boy on the beach. "Is he one of your kids at the village?"

Takeru shook his head.

"One of the kids from the other town?"

"I'm not really sure," Takeru said, flipping hurriedly from page to page. "This sort of thing, you see, it wasn't really broadcast to many people, and Kiku and Miyu were rather young when it happened. I don't even think they remember much about it, and this book ... well, its theirs, so this is the only copy." He was speaking faster and faster, almost tearing some of the pages in his frantic flipping.

Yuusaku flexed his fingers. The Takeru from before would have bristled if he dared go close, but this Takeru knew them only as kindhearted visitors, not technology-equipped-strangers.

He set a hand atop the book—not touching Takeru, but there was but an inch separating them. Takeru felt the contact all the same; he stopped, sucking in a deep breath. Exhaled with such ferocity that he flipped a page or two ahead.

"I don't want to bring you any pain," he said, "so if it's easier for us to simply look at the book, then ..."

Takeru pushed the book into his hands. It was heavy but well-crafted; whether it was Kiku or Miyu's handiwork, he was impressed. But the weight of the contents felt heavier than the book itself. He sagged under its weight, wondering just how Takeru had managed to hold it for so long. Ryouken slipped a hand underneath to support it, and together they heaved the book up.

"Maybe you ought to look at it in the spare room?" Takeru said, smiling shakily. "I'll show you the way."

On the walk back up the creaky, dark stairs, no one spoke a word. 


	11. Chapter 11

Yuusaku heaved the tome onto the bed, letting it drop onto the sheets. Dust littered the once-pristine covers, and contrasting against the white sheets, the black book looked even more foreboding, like it had pulled it from the depths of hell. It wasn't a dangerous book. It wasn't a spell book. It hardly should have emanated any fear, but the air around it felt cold and electric.

"Well," Ryouken said. "We might as well open it." He squeezed Yuusaku's hand, and then reached for the first page. Takeru had opened the book downstairs, but Yuusaku hadn't had more than a glance at the contents. Now that he could examine it more closely, he could see scribbles between the taped photographs. There were notes about shells and stones to be found on the beach; favourite meals at one of the cafes; and plenty of "I like this!" tacked on to cheesy photographs.

But when the photos weren't cheerily picturesque, the notes disappeared. The photos of the little blond boy stared back at him. Some of the photographs weren't even taken with a camera, but cut from newspaper clippings. There wasn't a single name anywhere.

Yuusaku traced his fingers over the picture of the claw. That strange ship had been out there too. He couldn't see the ship, as it must have been tucked just under the surface, but the claw stuck out and created an even path for the boy to walk along. Yuusaku shivered as he remembered walking down that same path.

"Should we assume this is Hal then?" Spectre said, tapping the photograph of the little blond boy.

"I don't think we should assume anything," Yuusaku said. "I'll check in with Kusanagi later and see what he knows about a disappearance in another town."

"Sounds like they have slightly more technology down there." Ryouken leaned forward to peer more closely at the photographs. "Those are digital camera prints, not old-fashioned cameras with film. Whoever took these photos even had use of a printer."

"And those two women still went all the way up here ..." Spectre scratched at his chin. "You think they thought they would be abducted too?"

Yuusaku suppressed another shiver. He couldn't judge Kiku and Miyu for running away from a place where they were in danger.

"Was it a common occurrence then?" Ryouken scanned the pages once more, on his lips words such as 'sacrifice' or 'ceremony.' Yusauku didn't want to make any such assumptions about a place he had never visited nor knew nothing about. He wanted to trust that Kiku and Miyu had run away for their own lives—and that the existence of this book was so that they would never forget what had happened in their hometown.

"That's the same ship, isn't it?" He pointed to the great, metal arm. "If so, then that ship has been around for several more years."

"It has the technology," Ryouken said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Which gives us a clue: these events date back to pre-VR."

Spectre raised a finger. A slow smile spread across his lips as he brought his hand up to his head. "I wouldn't be so sure of that. After all, what is on our heads? Isn't a simulation just another aspect of virtual reality? Aren't we technically experiencing VR?"

"Then VR didn't come with the ship, but it was included ..." Yuusaku flipped through the pages, looking for any photographs. The more uplifting photographs Miyu and Kiku had included were of their village; Yuusaku could see telephone poles and electric lights, and if they had printed these photographs, likely they had access to computers. He searched for any sight of the change in technology, but past the angsty photos of the blond-haired boy, and the aesthetic photos of the village, the photos suddenly ... stopped.

Had technology progressed up north?

"Likely someone did repairs on the ship," he said, and winced when his own words came with added assumptions. There was too little information to go off of.

Ryouken tapped his head again. "If we're wearing simulation helmets, then VR has progressed on this ship to likely the same strength it is down at SOL Technologies—and we can likely rule out SOL's participation in this sick experiment as the server hasn't crashed."

Spectre let out a short laugh, and Yuusaku has to stifle a chuckle beneath his sleeve. Ryouken  _ did  _ have a point.

"That means someone cashed in on what Zaizen was researching," Spectre said. He stretched his arms high above his head. "But then, if this is a simulation, will it replicate the exact events of the previous, er ... timeline. That is to say, will the abductions be the same?"

Unlikely, Yuusaku wanted to believe. If Hal, or whoever that stranger was, was after them, then he wouldn't be operating under the same actions. Plans had changed here. Takeru and Kiku weren't afraid of them, and two of the kids had travelled around with them. Likely they wouldn't be able to determine upcoming events, meaning ... Yuusaku swallowed thickly. If any of the children were led astray, they'd be easy targets.

"They can't take that one boy," Ryouken said.

Yuusaku frowned. "Which boy?"

"The one that came with us. If he's hooked up too, then that means they can't test on him."

As horrible as it sounded, Yuusaku almost wanted to ask,  _ How come?  _ How come this stranger hadn't stopped once he'd gotten Ai hooked up? He seemed quite interested in all of the children if previous events were anything to go by, and yet Ryouken was correct in saying that the stranger hadn't been interested in Ai. Did he not possess something the other children had? Were there others that this stranger wouldn't go after?

"Is it because that kid probably would happily go onto the ship?" Spectre asked. "Too easy of a target."

"Enough," Ryouken said, silencing Spectre with a firm glare. "The reason isn't important now. We should keep track of the kids to see which one that stranger goes after."

"He might not remember his previous t ... tests." Yuusaku spat the word out, feeling it slick and acidic on his lips. He didn't want to think about what those children had endured. He himself still had nightmares of the Lost Incident trauma. If those children ever woke up, would they remember the ship? Would they ever remember their capturer? When Yuusaku had first escaped, his memories were both hazy  _ and  _ vivid. He'd forget and forget if someone asked him, but at night the memories would flood his dreams and he'd wake up sweaty and shaking. In those post-panic moments, with vomit on his lips and his hair fisted in his hands, he'd have the memories but not the words to say what had happened to him. But these children, they had never woken up. Only Aqua had come out of the abduction grand, and she seemed to have no memory. Perhaps it was because she was found before she went onto the ship.

"Either way," Ryouken said, "we should see who that man goes after next. That will give us a clue what he's truly after. And in the meantime"—he rubbed tiredly at his face—"we should give your associate Kusanagi an update."

Spectre smothered a laugh into his fist. "Associate? Doesn't Yuusaku have friends?"

Ryouken rolled his eyes, but Yuusaku brushed the taunt aside.

"He should have some new information for us. And besides ..." Yuusaku glanced down at the book. "He should be able to look up information about the southern town. If there's technology, it's likely there's a website or some form of social media."

"How about an online newspaper?" Spectre said. He tapped the newspaper clippings. "Even if this might be printed, there could be digital archives."

Ryouken hummed in agreement. Yuusaku glanced to the door, itching to escape. Every second they stayed here gave Hal another opportunity to sneak into the village. The walls felt like they had ears too, and when the trio slipped out of the bedroom door, Takeru and Kiku were waiting out front of the kitchen, resting serving platters on their stomachs. They exchanged mixed looks; neither of them looked comfortable speaking up, and likely Kiku knew what they had seen down in the basement.

"We'll come back this evening to chat again," Yuusaku, dipping his head politely.

Kiku clenched her hands round the platter. "Shouldn't you rest a bit? Evening is fast falling, especially at this time of year."

Outside the window, the sky had turned charcoaly and frosty. The sunset hours had long since gone, and Yuusaku shivered at the thought of trekking out into the nighttime air. But something about his posture or expression must have defined his strong resolve. 

Takeru handed him a thick, woollen jacket, white and puffy with a single red stripe running from the hood down the backside. "To keep you warm." He passed two more jackets to Ryouken and Spectre. They were thick, but theirs were brighter colours that contrasted with what they were already wearing and defined Takeru's eclectic wear. Spectre happily slid his arms into the mismatched, patchwork sleeves and did up each of the square-shaped buttons. Ryouken grumbled round a corded knit collar that reached up to his nose; his own arms and chest were bound in dark mahogany and blue, and both colours met together in dirty brown tones. The clothing looked like it had lived through many years despite Takeru appearing relatively young, as if these outfits had been passed down through generations.

Kiku passed them a heavy, metal lantern, the sort of size and shape that an ancient nightwalker might wield. Yuusaku took it by its ebony handle and grunted at the weight—it was solidly built. But the light was warm and bright, and when he pointed it out into the blackened world, a fair chunk of sidewalk and street was illuminated.

"Keep safe," Kiku said, wrapping an arm round Takeru.

Takeru patted Kiku's hand. "We'll leave the door open for you."

Yuusaku dipped his head in appreciation and then slipped through the doorway. The lantern light the village around him. He never needed to lift the lantern up or spin it round; the clean, glass windows provided enough openings for the bright candlelight. An electric flashlight wouldn't have worked as well as the lantern did.

They walked side by side. Ryouken held onto his shoulder, breaths laboured despite the journey only beginning. Spectre swung his arms from side to side.

They'd been out to the shack so many times by this point that he bet he could walk the trail with his eyes closed—a theory he no longer wanted to test out as he realised the forest looked much different into the dark. As they descended into the forest, he felt like he was walking half-blind; the lamplight only shone a few feet in front of him, giving him just a millisecond's notice before he tripped over a risen root or stepped on a patch of mud. Wind burst through the trees, sounding like cannon fire as it knocked into bushes and rustled every leaf attached to its spindly branches. If it wasn't for the familiarity of the trail and walking straight down the path, Yuusaku was certain he would have been lost searching for a small, brown shack amidst a shadowy world.

At the front of the shack, Yuusaku ducked down on his hands and knees to search for the hidden button to open up the trap door. He, Ryouken, and Spectre patted round the side of the shack; it was Spectre who gave a gentle a-ha as the trap door opened.

"Should we go looking for the transmitter?" he asked, rolling back on his heels.

Yuusaku pressed a hand to the shack. Somewhere behind these walls was the phone signal. There must have been a way into the shack, either by another trap door or simply busting through the wall.

But he shook his head and knelt before the tunnel. "Not important. What is is—"

His remaining words froze on his lips when he heard the leaves shuffle. They'd been rustling all night, sounding like an angry swarm of insects coming to suck their blood from their bodies; yet after the initial uncomfortableness, Yuusaku had droned out the background noise. This rustling, however, sounded different. Disjointed. What was moving in the bushes wasn't a steady gust of wind, but movements.

He spun round on his heel, waving the lantern out in front of them.

Windy threw his hands up, pedalling back on his thin legs. He tumbled back onto the green undergrowth, and pushed himself on his hands and knees until his back hit a tree trunk.

Spectre raised a hand. "Hello ..."

Windy narrowed his eyes at them. By his warm attire, he hadn't snuck out of the house—or at least, hadn't rushed out without considering taking care of himself. But by his wide eyes, he hadn't expected to get caught, least of all by strangers.

Yuusaku lowered the lamp, but left enough light for his face to be visible. The last thing they needed was Windy darting off down the beach like Earth had. He would have preferred no more chases for the rest of the vacation.

"Should you be out here by yourself?" Ryouken asked.

Windy bristled, shoulders arching up towards his ears. "Huh?"

Ryouken pressed on. "Did you sneak away then?"

"N-no, I went out here all by myself."

Spectre's catlike grin glowed in the lamplight. "And how come you're out here then?"

Windy bristled like a cat. Growled like a cat too. Though the adults had all changed since they'd find encountered them, the children felt like the same beings as they had been on the beach. Yuusaku remembered Windy's poisonous glares very well, and much preferred not being the subject of intense scrutiny. Children didn't frighten him, but Windy came with a devilish personality that put his teeth on edge.

"Could you be looking for someone?" Spectre said, and snapped his fingers when Windy blushed and looked down at his knees. "You kids always come in pairs, don't you?"

"I'm not going looking for someone though," Windy said, balling his hands in fists. "I'm on a mission for someone—just me."

Ryouken raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"That's a  _ secret,  _ mister."

Could no conversation with these children ever go in the right direction? He felt like he was playing a game of Clue with them—and the children only told the truth half the time.

"Then what are you looking for?" Yuusaku tried. "We're ... adults. We might know."

To his surprise, Windy didn't blast him down with childish cruelty. He pressed a delicate hand to his lips, eyebrows meshed over his eyes. He looked like Lightning had when he was thinking, but instead of the strangely calculated remarks Lightning would have given, Windy said, "Well, I guess adults  _ do  _ know more ... because they're as old as dinosaurs."

Ah. Half as calculated as Lightning but just as smart-aleck as Ai.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuusaku could see Ryouken clenching and unclenching his fists, and his breaths were oddly regulated. Conversations with these trickster children probably weren't doing his concussion any good.

"We've been wandering around this forest for a while," Yuusaku continued, "and so I bet, if you're looking for something, we've likely seen it. So what is it you're looking for?"

Windy leaned close, brushing his green bangs from around his bright, yellow eyes. "I can't tell you  _ exactly,"  _ he said, and Yuusaku heard Ryouken sigh heavily. "But!" Windy shot up like an elastic band, raising a finger high in the sky. "If you come with me and I see it, you can help me uncover it."

By his words, this secret sounded buried. Had the children found any buried treasure before the abductions had happened? In his hazy past memories, the children had collected electronic treasures on the beach and buried them in a sandy pit. Lightning had found the computer mouse too, but that special treasure had been in his hands ever since ...

Yuusaku frowned. They'd chased Earth through the forest and onto the beach, and then run into Hal and the metal ship with the great, electronic claw. Lightning had had the mouse on the beach; he’d dragged it behind him. But sometime between the chase and the rescue by Takeru, Lightning had lost the mouse; Yuusaku couldn't remember seeing it on the boat, and it certainly hadn't been found by Kiku, Takeru, and Miyu when the adults had met them on the beach.

He leaned close to Ryouken and whispered, "Lightning's computer mouse."

Ryouken's eyes widened in realisation, and he passed the information along to Spectre, who snapped his fingers and knelt down by Windy.

"This treasure you speak of—is it valuable?"

Windy nodded so fast that his head nearly sprung from his neck.

"And are the adults at the village not allowed to know about it?"

Windy nodded, and then froze. "You three ... you're not tattling adults, are you?"

"Wouldn't tell a soul," Spectre said. He held out a hand, pinkie raised. "Pinkie promise?"

As if that were a secret handshake, Windy locked pinkie fingers with Spectre. He twisted his thumb up and held it high like a flag for Spectre to press his own thumb to. Then he shook his hand freeze and gazed round at the three adults, new hope sparkling across his pointed face.

"Are you all coming?"

Yuusaku felt three pairs of eyes on him. They needed to call Kusanagi, and technically he  _ had  _ met Spectre and Ryouken. But Yuusaku preferred talking to Kusanagi personally to get the details firsthand. However, that left Ryouken and Spectre with Windy.

"I'll stay," he said, and waited for Ryouken to grunt.

He received a peck on the cheek instead.

"We'll bring the kid back alive," Ryouken said, just quietly enough that Windy couldn't hear him. A small blessing considering how tightly Ryouken's jaw was clenched, bones pressing into Yuusaku's cheek. He twisted his head and kissed Ryouken back. He couldn't pretend this was their last kiss. Not after everything that had happened. But when Ryouken pulled away, his eyes were dull and his skin pale and sticky. This vacation was becoming just as uncomfortable for him as it had been for Yuusaku.

One last time, Yuusaku kissed him, and this time, he told himself it would never be his last.

"I'll meet you back at the cafe."

Spectre and Ryouken took off with Windy. Both of them looked like awkward, first time parents, not sure whether they should hold Windy's hand or let him wander off. In the end, they walked so close that they were two looming shadows over the poor boy's shoulders, and in the distance, he could hear Windy say, "You're not my mom, you know that? Only Miss Miyu is my mom."

Hm. He had never thought to ask just who all these kids belonged to.

But Windy was safe. Awkwardly protected and no doubt Spectre and Ryouken would return defeated with the child. But they would keep Windy safe no matter what. In the first timeline, Yuusaku wouldn't have trusted either of them with a child, ex-Hanoi or not. They simply weren't good with kids, and by how often Ryouken looked ready to  _ strangle  _ Ai, Yuusaku had never expected him to be the one walking on Windy's heels, one eye always focused on the child.

Carefully, he slipped into the tunnel. Mud slicked against Takeru's winter jacket; he could feel the dampness against his nose, and it smelt moist down here. An awful combination combined with claustrophobia. If the tunnel collapsed, would he be able to wiggle free? The only person who would see him would be Kusanagi, and not only was he halfway across Japan, he had no way of contacting anyone in this isolated town.

He tried to push the dark thought from his mind, but it stayed nestled in his subconscious as he pulled Ryouken's duel disk out from his pocket. With his and Spectre's burnt and lost to sea, this was their last form of communication unless they ventured onto the ship and pillaged some of the tech from there. Yuusaku held it into his hands, noting the sleek design. But when he clicked open the interface, it displayed technology so archaic it was  _ fuzzy.  _ The graphics had improved in the common duel disk, and yet this ancient interface was too old  _ to  _ improve, making it look off-focus.

It wasn't poor tech, just Ryouken's old fear and now pure displeasure with AI interfaces. His partner didn't even have  _ DuelAssistant.  _ Or Talk-to-Text. Yuusaku groaned as he manually searched for the video call and typed in Kusanagi's number. He didn't know  _ anyone's  _ personal numbers—not even Ryouken's—but he had learnt the hot dog number as essential employee information. The knowledge had saved him or multiple occasions when he needed help, advice, or both.

When Kusanagi answered, it was with a much sombre tone than he had earlier that day. He looked like he hadn't slept either, and considering it was only the late evening, Yuusaku had a sneaking suspicion that when he'd called Kusanagi earlier that day it had been after an allnighter, and since then Kusanagi hadn't slept a wink. Yet he still smiled as he rubbed at the bags under his eyes.

"Yuusaku, good to hear back from you."

"And you," he said with a curt nod. "Any leads?"

"I got a hold of the Knights of Hanoi. Dr. Taki specifically." Muffled shuffling came through the tinny speaker, and in the screen Kusanagi pulled out several sheets of paper. "They have plenty of files on the Lost Incident ... and on what happened."

Yuusaku pinched his teeth into his lip. "Please speak honestly, Kusanagi."

Kusanagi cast his eyes down to the paper. A corner of the page crinkled.

"The Lost Incident was undertaken to determine how free will is positively and negatively influenced by stress. You're familiar with the results. But frankly, what the Hanois had kept of their research doesn't match up with what this stranger was researching. He wasn't looking for stress and free will—he was simply interested in the presence of free will; that is to say, how to replicate it in non-human beings. Robots, essentially."

Kusanagi held up a paper for him to see, titled "Project BOHMAN."

"This here was their research. Or the scientist's research—there are no names on any of the files, and the Hanois and I only uncovered this research through some backchannel means. This wasn't even on their files either, and when questioned, none of them ever conversed with scientists outside of their own project ... and they don't remember Kougami involving himself in such matter either."

A fierce shiver ran down his spine at the mention of Kougami. He'd been stripped off his titles, and yet the status still echoed in the back of Yuusaku's mind. The monster of a man who performed experiments on innocent children to create free-thinking AI, the likes of which were still used in all manner of technology. The monster of a man who considered results over procedures, who broke ethical law for the sake of "science." Who left his son home every day while he went to a warehouse and tortured children his own son's age. Who used his son to  _ lure  _ these children into his clutches. Bile rose in the back of his mouth and he pressed a shaking hand to his face. No matter how much this awful mystery diverged from his own circumstances, he couldn't stop seeing the similarities. The truths. The fact that, if the helmet came off his head, there would be two lifeless children still lying in cots in Miyu's house. The fact that while they were trapped in this simulation something awful could have been happening back at the village; they had no way of discerning whether time was passing or not, whether this was magic or a VR-induced simulation.

"Yuusaku."

He choked, curling into himself. Kusanagi had seen him break down before, but Yuusaku hovered a hand over the power switch. He'd moved out two years ago. Been with Ryouken for three. Escaped the Lost Incident  _ fourteen years ago and yet it was still the fresh memory in his mind, the ooziest wound rending his heart in two, how could he only remember that awful time, how could he only focus on what had happened to  _ him  _ instead of what was happening to  _ them—

"Yuusaku, a breath."

Like Ryouken. Kusanagi sounded like Ryouken as he told him to breathe, one heavy breath at a time. The tunnel walls pressed against his shoulders; he wrenched himself onto his stomach so that nothing was touching his back or sides, nowhere where he would feel like hands were touching him. Then he breathed. One, two. In, out. Again, and again. The tunnel was the least comfortable place for him to be, but at the same time, it was quiet. If he stayed still, there was no wind. No footsteps. He was alone beneath the world. When his body rubbed against the walls, he stiffened, waiting for the slip and crack as the tunnel concaved. But his eyes stayed on the duel disk, his hands round the gently warm metal. Kusanagi stayed with him for the entire time, until Yuusaku lifted himself up and patted his face. His eyes were dry—he only ever cried in dreams—but his throat felt dry and scratchy and his limbs sagged under the weight of whatever it was he had been carrying around. Fear. Worry. Guilt. Kusanagi could probably tell when he called earlier that day just what emotional baggage he was carrying about, but being friends for many years—seven years, his mind supplied—Kusanagi wouldn't have drawn attention to it, and he wouldn't now either.

All Kusanagi said was, "Are you OK to continue?"

"Yes," he whispered in a shred of a voice.

Kusanagi nodded sagely. What he had left to share was mainly details about the similarities and differences between Project BOHMAN and Project HAL, and the Lost Incident. The similarities were few and the differences innumerable; it was like comparing apples and oranges: both fruit but with marked distinctions.

"I think you're right in saying that these new projects came out of the interest of SOL Technologies and the Knights of Hanoi, but what happened up north is something new entirely."

Were it back at the cafe, he could have shown Kusanagi Kiku and Miyu's scrapbook. Kiku had forbidden him for taking it outdoors though, and so Yuusaku had nothing to share but his own words. Weakly, he cleared his throat.

"Can you search for Hinosei, the town just south of here. And missing children."

Kusanagi's fingers danced across the keyboard.

"What information are you looking for?"

"Name, incident details."

"Hal."

Yuusaku blinked.

"Hal, like Project HAL."

Yuusaku held the duel disk more tightly. "Is there a picture?"

"Not a good one, but you can see the back of the kid's head—little blond kid, I'd say."

_ On a beach.  _ The same photo Kiku or Miyu had cut from the newspaper and tacked into their scrapbook. The next words tumbled from his lips.

"What does the article say?"

Kusanagi pressed his lips together as he scrolled. The computer lights bounced off his dull eyes, but the corners crinkled as he squinted and leaned closer to the screen.

" _ Early morning a little blond boy was hit in a traffic collision on Dawn Street. The child sustained multiple injuries and was rushed to the local clinic, and passed away before he could receive treatment. Information regarding the service is underway. An investigation regarding the collision is also underway. The child, Hal, leaves behind no legitimate family." _

A dark seed formed within his belly. Hal had ... died. The little blond boy who only Aqua has seen had been killed in Hinosei—not missing, but murdered in a traffic incident. He'd been killed earlier too, if Miyu and Kiku leaving their town was anything to go by.

"What else is there on Hal?"

Clicks echoed through the speaker, punctuated by Kusanagi's hums and hahs. "Some obituaries with the same information. Nothing on the investigations, looks like it was arrested shortly after the incident. There's not that much on this, at least not on the main web."

Yuusaku pressed a hand to his lips. "Did the Hanois talk about Hinosei?"

"It never came up, no, but ..." Kusanagi paused. The clicking intensified, sounding like a swarm of cicadas storming down the tunnel. "The other project was called Project BOHMAN, correct?"

Yuusaku nodded.

"I think I found the connection then. Bohman was the name of Hal's ... AI. Not a housebot, but an AI—an early design it seems like too, as this report is all about improving an AI: free will, deliberate choice, rationality, etc. Philosophy shit."

He'd heard one of Zaizen Akira's TED Talks on the work behind AIs. To be a successful AI, one needed free will. One needed to interpret the world's complex, ever-changing rules and blend successfully into modern society. One needed to be able to make choices for oneself with the knowledge that they would have consequences, both positive and negative, on current and future societies. That TED Talk had been the driest presentation Yuusaku had ever seen, and yet the results miraculously stuck in his brain. In a perverse way, he was interested in AI and VR projects, even if they had been pioneered by Kougami's dirty work. He wanted to see how far technology and ethical testing had gone since those dark days. But if Bohman was trying to become a better AI, then did that mean who they had met ... was not human? He had seemed so lifelike.

"Bohman was child genius' Hal's ‘brother.’ Hal was researching how to improve Bohman—how to make him more human. And so I guess when Hal died, Bohman was left to look for his brother."

"He doesn't just seem to be looking for him though," Yuusaku said, scratching at his chin. He focused on a dark spot above his head, envisioning the field notes Bohman had written. "He was looking for something at a specific coordinate."

"A body, perhaps?"

Yuusaku shook his head, but then paused. "You don't think that's what he's looking for in the children? A compatible match?"

Kusanagi never joked in situations like these, and his grim tone brought a wave of worry over Yuusaku's shaking shoulders. "Can AIs ... make other AIs?"

The question seemed so incredulous that Yuusaku wanted to shut the thought down that very second, but he held his tongue. What was stopping an advanced AI from multiplying? Or by extension, improving not only itself but other AIs? Hal had been researching how to help Bohman, so that now that Hal was dead, had Bohman being trying to revive his child brother? He wouldn't have needed a body then, but research—knowledge about children, their interests and mannerisms and biological makeup. Bohman wanted to make a human.

"Can you make a human though?" Kusanagi asked. "That's not part of anyone's research, and frankly I doubt it's possible ..."

"It must be," Yuusaku said, drawing short, stunted breaths through his cracked lips. "If Bohman is walking around, Hal must have discovered how to make a human shell for an AI. There's no projectors out here. No technology but within this tunnel. But we've seen that man everywhere, places only a human could be." His words were coming out faster now, and whether Kusanagi could understand him or not, he wasn't sure. But he had to speak. Had to tell Kusanagi everything.

The connection blipped out before he had a chance to finish. Yuusaku reeled back, eyes flashing to the little control panel on the duel disk. He still had internet, albeit blinking and only one bar.

He froze when he spotted Hal sitting across from him in the tunnel. The first thought that popped to mind was that this little boy  _ did  _ look like Lightning, and he understood why Aqua had mistook them. But besides the differences in face and clothing, Hal  _ glowed  _ like he had eaten some strange sweet. There was a strange texture to his body that Yuusaku realised after was the tunnel. He could see  _ through  _ Hal, as bizarre as that seemed. And yet Hal seemed wholly unbothered as he cupped his face in one hand.

"What's wrong with that duel disk?" Hal asked.

Yuusaku yanked it off his wrist, worried that it might spontaneously combust like the others.

Hal huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I just told you, there's something wrong with your duel disk."

As reassuring as a predator promising not to eat the prey. He was aware that Hal was blocking one of the exits. If Yuusaku scrambled with all his strength, he could make it back to the surface. But if Hal was an AI without a body, he likely would be able to travel in other ways. Technology. Wires. And the only live wires in the entire village were in these two shacks. If he ran, Hal would catch him.

Yuusaku held the duel disk out to his side with one hand, so if it did burn, he'd only lose one limb.

Hal tilted his head to the side. "I  _ can't  _ enter that. You did something wrong to it."

Yuusaku shook the device. It didn't have any stronger Firewall than his or Spectre's duel disks. The only marked difference was the lack of ...

Oh. Hal couldn't control a device without AI assistance—and since Ryouken swore against any AI-assisted technology, Hal couldn't break into it. Yuusaku slipped the duel disk against his side. He still had internet, meaning Hal hadn't disabled the connector up above. But he could—he seemed smart enough despite his infantile appearance. Sparks danced behind his bright eyes, and every movement seemed calculated and precise. A bit too much like Lightning, if Yuusaku was honest with himself.

"How come I can't—"

"Are you Hal?"

Hal blinked at him. "I think you already know that."

"And is Hal—are you outside of this simulation too?"

Hal tapped a hand to his own head, smiling. "Only in spirit, I'm afraid. I'm not much stronger here either—not yet anyways."

Yuusaku was used to taunts and jabs, but from a child they seemed even worse. The temperature had dropped below freezing, and his breath misted in front of him like a dragon. A declawed dragon with as little bark as bite.

Hal rolled forward onto his knees, crouching like an animal waiting to pounce. There wasn't much room for either of them to sit, and yet Yuusaku was certain if he ran Hal would catch him one way or another. This was an AI child he was against—and he had plenty of experience with human children after this holiday too. He stood no chance in a game of chase.

"For an adult, you have a lot of emotions too." Hal crawled closer, one step at a time closing the gap between them. Yuusaku pushed himself back.

Hal continued: "My brother studies humans, did you know? He wants to be one—a real human. And he wants me to be one too."

"And which one up you came up with the plan to abduct children?" Yuusaku dared to ask.

Hal shrugged. "It was a joint effort. Besides, we returned those kids after the tests, and once they wake up, they shouldn't remember a thing."

He clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth ached. "But they weren't waking up."

He waited for Hal to leap back in shock, but he simply hummed under his breath. Another step forward. The distance was but a couple of feet between them. Even if Yuusaku kept the distance even between them, Hal was smart enough not to let him make it to the surface. At any moment he expected wires to shoot from the tunnel walls and wrap around his limbs. After the incident with the moving ship tentacle, anything seemed possible—and Hal could control it all with his mind. It almost seemed like the silly plot of a fantasy novel, and yet there were no magic powers, just improved science and technology.

This was what Project HAL had created: an improved AI with human intelligence and AI invincibility.

"What did you do to those children?" Yuusaku asked, dragging his foot back. If he could keep Hal's attention, he could make it closer to the surface.

Hal crawled after him, smiling. Bits of candlelight sparkled around his face where the translucency was becoming even more apparent. He wasn't human, but he was the most emotionally realistic AI Yuusaku had ever seen. A more terrifying result than what SOL Technologies and the Knights of Hanoi had ever produced.

"What did you do?" Yuusaku asked again.

"I'm already human, you see," Hal said, following him down the tunnel, smile eerie on his pale face. "I always was human, and even if I live on beyond the grave, I'll still be human. But my brother  _ wants  _ to be human. He wants to be my brother first and a human second, and after everything he's done for me, isn't the least I can do give him my humanity? My  _ will?" _

_ Once, there was a little boy who ventured to a far away land in search of his Will. He wanted to live for himself. He wanted to be himself. _

"I want to give my brother the greatest gift of humanity—and to do that, I need to borrow it from something else.”  _ Someone  _ else. "Those kids are fine, I'm sure. Physically, at least. Those poor people in the town probably don't know how to check for anything beyond cuts and bruises, so they'd assume their poor children are dead. But were it not for the helmet on your head, I'd tell you to pass the message on for me: you'll only lose your will, not your body or mind. Those children I sent back will answer any command you ask of them, but if you leave them lying on cots, then of course they'll appear little more than vegetables."

Yuusaku clenched his hands in tight fists. "You cannot take away someone's will—"

"Because it doesn't exist? Because it's complex?" Hal crawled so fast that Yuusaku wheeled back on his legs. He could see the beginning of the light—the top of the tunnel was near.

Hal pushed his fingers into the muddy dirt. Transparency didn't seem to affect his relationship with the corporeal world—he slipped through the ground and returned with a small, red cord.

A wire.

"It's not like I made this decision yesterday. I knew the consequences, and I knew the results too. And my brother deserves that will."

"To take from someone else?"

Sunlight dappled over the top of off Hal's blond head.

"More than anyone else."

Yuusaku spun on his heels. His feet scrabbled at the muddy tunnel, slick with dew. His fingers found the opening beneath the shack and he pulled. At the same time, something cold and wet and plastic wrapped round his ankle. Panic flooded his chest. He kicked against the wire, yanking himself over the ledge and onto the grass. Everything felt slick; his hands slipped off every blade of grass and root woven into the ground. Hal was somewhere behind him, but more pressing was the wire crawling up his leg and towards his chest. Frantically, he wrenched himself to the side and grabbed hold of it. No thicker than a computer cable, it shouldn't have been strong—but it was thick and sturdy, encased in a plastic coating that only pliers would cut through.

He reached for his duel disk and smashed the tip into the wire. It broke in a mess of skewed wires and plastic casing.

Hal poked his head from the tunnel. "Hey!"

Yuusaku ran, duel disk pressed to his chest. However far Hal could travel, Yuusaku hoped he could run even further. He'd run down this path to the beach before, but with adrenaline coursing through his veins, every trail looked similar. He dashed down whatever one seemed wider, hoping to whatever gods were out there that he didn't run into Bohman either.

As he broke through the bushes, he caught sight of red in the sky—analog numbers counting down like some doomsday omen. The beach was otherwise spotless, not even a wire or cable in sight. But Yuusaku's heart  _ shivered  _ at the sight of the glowing numbers. Those hadn't been out there earlier. He hadn't seen any clocks, especially not in this archaic city.

A pained whine escaped his lips as he fell to his knees. Twenty hours. The clock was counting down the final day like it truly was the end of the world, or more likely, the simulation. Or the countdown until a child disappeared. The more dark thoughts came to mind, the worse the situation felt. The weight of the world pressed down on his quivering shoulders and crushed his lungs like paper plates.

"Yuusaku!"

Coming round the beach was Ryouken, Spectre, and Windy, all looking relatively calm. Windy had the computer mouse, dragging it by its cable like some toy on wheels ... only sandy was sticking into every crack, most likely ruining the device. Still Ryouken and Spectre looked as content as one could be after going treasure hunting with one of the village kids.

Their expressions melted as they first saw him, kneeling in the sand with his head bowed, and then the glowing numbers in the sky. Before they even made it over, Spectre called out, "That a doomsday clock?" and Ryouken flicked him on the side of the head.

Yuusaku shook his head. He felt like he was back in the tunnel, the world closing in around him. The helmet was still on his head and he could  _ feel it  _ digging into his skull, pressing against his temples, blinding his vision. But he was  _ tired  _ too, so exhausted of everything that had happened these past few days that made them feel like the past few years. He was tired of not being able to do anything, of getting one step forward and three steps back.

Ryouken and Spectre knelt down in front of him, switching their attention from him to the numbers and back to him, as if there was some great reason for what had happened.

Yuusaku bowed his head, shoulders curling like crumbled mountains.

"I don't even know what that means," he said, falling forward onto his hands. "I don't even know.”


	12. Chapter 12

Somehow, the decision was made to go back to the cafe to regroup. Yuusaku didn't remember agreeing to the decision, or even hearing it spoken aloud, but one minute his knees were in wet sad and the next minute he was wandering down the coast, head bowed, body heavy. The sand felt even slipperier than the grass he had ran through before, and he swayed from side to side. No one touched him. Ryouken knew better, and he kept Spectre from reaching out too. Yuusaku knew better than to slip onto his knees any more—he needed to raise his head and march forward.

As he walked, the feat of strength slowly became easier. He breathed in and out with his steps, sucking in gulps of salty air. The wind swept the ground around his feet, but it was easy to breathe at night. If anyone approached them, he'd hear them from miles back; it was deadly silent along the shore, and they were all quieter than mice. Even Windy, who Yuusaku expected to be a loud child like Ai, kept to himself and dragged his computer mouse along by its cable. 

At the first sight of the village, Windy charged forward, only to be pulled back by Spectre's finger round his shirt collar.

"Steady. There might be trouble up ahead—someone that would want your treasure there."

Windy clutched the mouse to his chest. "I'd never let them."

Spectre chuckled. "That's the spirit, but stay close."

They passed Miyu's house along the way. Through the clear window he could see the green of her houseplants sprouting around every inch of the living space—and in fact, taking up the entire space so that any human being would have to wind themselves around the ferns, shrubs, and  _ trees.  _ There were trees in there.

But there were also children, plentiful like the greenery. The front door swung open and Flame and Lightning stood at the entryway. Two of the more mature children, they weren't quite bouncing on their heels like Ai and Earth. Aqua sat in the window too, watching with wide eyes as they approached.

Miyu beckoned Windy in with a wave of her hand, ushering him into the warm house. Yuusaku, Ryouken, and Spectre hung back before the doorway, but even from several feet back, he could feel a hot, greenhouse heat. It was roasting in there, and every human resident of the house had pink cheeks.

Just before Windy could slip away, Ryouken held out his hand. "We'll be taking that mouse."

"That  _ computer mouse,"  _ Lightning corrected. He took the mouse from Windy's hands before the child even had a chance to snatch it back. Lightning held it up for Revolver but didn't hand it over. "What will you do with it?"

Ryouken reached out for it. Like particles slipping through his fingers, Lightning dodged. He bounced from foot to foot, swinging the mouse like a pendulum.

"What will you do with it?" Lightning asked again.

Ryouken sighed through his nose, not so much a side effect of the concussion as simply being fed-up. "Plug it into the computer, what else?"

With a satisfied nod, Lightning passed the mouse over. After being dragged all around the city, it hardly held its shape. Dirt and debris had been caught between the cracks, and there were visible scratches from how many times it had bounced down the dirty road. Yet Ryouken brushed it off and shifted it from hand to hand. Dirty, battered, and archaic—but it did still look functional. A sign that old tech still had durability to it.

"Will you bring that back?" Flame asked, nodding to the device.

Spectre shrugged. "You can't use it."

"But we  _ found  _ it," Ai remarked, poking his head round the corner.

All the while, Miyu had been staring at it rather frightened and concerned—but not upset, not angry, not shooing them into the living room and trying to make them all forget that the mouse had ever existed. Yuusaku had never seen her in anything but a panic-induced or overprotective state. Seeing her leaning against the boards with her arms tucked against her stomach made her seem like an entirely different woman.

"That doesn't necessarily make it yours," she said with a chuckle, tousling Ai's wild, black locks. "But if you visitors don't need it anymore ..."

"Can you use it?" Yuusaku asked.

"Not yet," Miyu said. "But it can't hurt, can it? We don't have much of that round here, but it's just a mouse, not an entire electronic system."

The children didn't seem to get what Miyu was referring to, except Lightning and Ai who had seen a computer. Aqua peeked her head around the corner too, blue eyes falling on the computer mouse.

"We collected that on the beach, Miss Miyu," she said. "Flame said one day treasure would wash onto the shore, so we've been looking for it."

Lightning pointed at the mouse. "And that's the treasure, and the computer's in the forest."

Miyu smiled down at them. Her hands were always stroking one child or another, fixing their overalls or brushing their fringes from their faces. At times, she looked like she had more than two arms. Yet each of the children leaned into her touch in turn, getting fussed like the precious beings they were. He could see all six of them in the doorway now, glowing like tiny candles. He'd never seen all six of them together; there had been five that day on the beach, and since then they'd split up or disappeared or been taken and returned.

Ryouken's hand fell lightly on his shoulder. "Yuusaku."

"We'll return the mouse," he said, already turning on his heel.

Miyu drew the children together, her arms spread so wide that she could embrace each of them without having to squish them like sandwich toppings. "Thank you."

As he turned around, he felt like he had just met another stranger in the village—the friendliest stranger he may ever meet.

At the cafe, Kiku and Takeru were waiting outside for them. For the chilly evening air, they were dressed casually in short sleeves and jeans, aprons cinched around their waists. They greeted them both with a smile, and regardless of whether they were going to part with a short goodbye or a lengthy farewell, Kiku and Takeru swept them into the cafe as if time was a construct and they had an eternity longer to figure this mess out. A cup landed between his chilled hands—black coffee that reflected his guarded stare. This Kiku and Takeru wouldn't have remembered what select foods he ate, yet the plates they brought out were basic breads and rolls, with all the toppings and spreads on the side.

"We'll be heading out soon," Ryouken said as Takeru pulled out a chair for him and Kiku served him a coffee lukewarm with cream. She started spooning sugar in for him too, checking with each scoop if there was enough; after three, Ryouken raised a hand to stop her.

"There's always time for tea," Kiku said with a little skip in her step, and laughed as she passed around the plate of rolls. "Or well, time for coffee in this case."

Ryouken remained stiff in his chair as he took a single raisin scone.

With a heavy sigh, Spectre relaxed back in his chair. "We're in no rush."

"I think you'll find we are," Ryouken muttered around a bite.

Yuusaku had to agree with Ryouken: they were on a time-sensitive schedule, and he was still feeling the after-effects of the panic attack he'd taken. Fear buzzed in the corners of his mind, unable to be chipped away by caffeine or carbs. There was a timer on this simulation, and at the end, who knew what would happen. The best case scenario would be that the simulation would simply end and they'd be returned to the ship without any complications. A far more deadly scenario would be that they would get stuck in limbo, unable to stay in the simulation  _ or  _ return to reality. And for some reason, the second scenario kept playing like a broken record in the back of his mind.

Spectre waved his hand, and with his other selected a honey-dripping dessert. "There's twenty three hours left."

"Until what?" Takeru spoke up, coming around with his own cup of coffee. He settled down as if they were all well-acquainted friends. Yuusaku stared first at Ryouken and then at Spectre. They hadn't discussed what they'd actually tell Takeru and Kiku; the thought had crossed his mind, but he'd thought they would leave with just a short farewell and thank you. Now, as Kiku took her own seat and nursed her mug and strawberry muffin, he found himself at a loss for words.

Neither Ryouken nor Spectre spoke up.

"Is it a surprise?" Kiku said, leaning close with a far-too-innocent smile.

As soon as Spectre opened his mouth, Yuusaku beat him to the answer.

"Something's going to happen on that boat, we think. I got a notification that the metal ship docked in your waters is going to ... do something. We don't know what. But we need to get down to the ship before time is up."

"You mean the metal ship in the ... book?" Takeru reached across to squeeze Kiku's hand. "I don't think ..."

"It's docked in your waters," Ryouken said, "and we need to get back on it."

With each word, Kiku seemed to draw into her herself, like a butterfly folding back into its old cocoon. Takeru scooched his chair closer to her. His body language was clear: do not upset her.

He'd seen himself fold back too. Seen words cut into him. It felt like looking into a mirror and seeing his anxiety staring back at him. He tightened his grip round his mug, and in as clear of a voice as he could manage, he spoke to Kiku. "We're from a city full of technology—we may know how to stop that ship. It won't dock on your shores any more."

When Kiku lifted her gaze, he hoped she could see the honesty in his face, the truth in his words. The only way back to the present would be to escape the simulation and stop the projects Bohman and Haru had created. Even if the Kiku in that timeline wouldn't remember, he hoped this Kiku, sitting in front of him with candlelight flickering against her face, would trust them to figure this out.

"Will you go now?" she asked.

Takeru tipped his head towards the back of the cafe. "If you've got twenty three hours left, you could get some rest, stay the night."

Yuusaku shook his head. He wouldn't be able to sleep in this state, and even Ryouken and Spectre would probably pace the room. They needed to get out of this strange event and back into reality, even if reality would be weirder and possibly worse. They'd have facts this time. They'd have the truth.

"Yuusaku."

He blinked at Takeru.

"Can I ask you something?" Colour rose to his cheeks, nearly as red as the tips of his hair. "Um, privately?"

Kiku seemed wholly unbothered by his awkwardness as she disentangled herself from his grasp. Ryouken and Spectre meanwhile looked like fishes out of water, staring at him like they hadn't heard what Takeru had said at all.

"... sure," Yuusaku said, rising from his seat.

Takeru couldn't have gathered their attentions more if he tried. He knocked first into the table and then Kiku's chair, and when he pushed his seat back, it screamed on its wooden legs. Each of Takeru's steps sounded clunky as he led Yuusaku to the back of the cafe. There was a wooden door hidden in the shadows—not mysterious or foreboding, but in the late night the candlelight didn't stretch to the corners, and Yuusaku had never looked for a second doorway.

Takeru led him out to a quaint patio. Sturdy, furnished wood stretched out from the side of the cottage and extended all along the wall. There were several tables set equal distances apart. In the wintry weather, this area must not have been used often, but Yuusaku could imagine in the summer the tables dressed with colourful, mismatched tablecloths and the warm wind rustling the canopy over their heads. Takeru headed to the edge of the patio and leant against one of the wooden railings. He nursed his coffee cup between his hands; tendrils of steam curled from the rim.

Yuusaku leaned against the railing. Waited for Takeru to speak up.

"You know, we don't get a lot of visitors around here ..." And then Takeru was blushing again, so bright that in the dim light his cheeks were like suns painted onto his face. "Not that that should mean much, but ..." A breath. "If it's rare we get guests, that means we really treasure them."

"I see," Yuusaku said, and winced when his words came out blander than he thought. Even a pointless "oof" would have been better.

"I wish we could have met on better terms," Takeru continued. "You know, without the worry of something weird going wrong here."

"Weird things happen ..."

"They happen to people who are scared." Takeru clutched his mug, drawing it into his chest. He'd begun to shiver slightly, even though not ten minutes before he'd been proudly standing out front of the cafe in his t-shirt. "Out here, we don't have much new stuff. No new books. No new people either—not that there's any weird breeding going on, don't think about stuff like that. But well ... we haven't had anything new since before the kids were born, and next week we're getting electric lights."

"You don't have them already?" Yuusaku blurted out. He bit his tongue back, waiting for Takeru's hackles to rise.

Takeru laughed aloud. "Does it surprise you? Well, we're getting them soon. Just in the library, no one else wants wires in their house. It'll be a big change for many of us, myself and the children mainly. I've never flicked a light switch before, if that's even what it's called." He let out another laugh, weaker and breathier.

"How come the city is changing?" Yuusaku asked.

"We, the adults, thought it might be time." Words pinched at the end, he let out a deep sigh. "I think Kiku and Miyu miss their hometown to be honest. They probably miss hot showers and lights and connections to the southern cities. I don't hear them talk about it, but I'm sure if I lived surrounded by wires and cables I wouldn't be so afraid of them either. So it's time we try to change a little detail in our town." A soft cough echoed through the still night. "But what if something goes wrong?" Takeru sounded miles away, even if Yuusaku could see him standing right next to him, arms hung over the patio, coffee pouring from his mug. Takeru didn't seem to notice. "What if there's a glitch? We don't have anyone to come and help us, not really; we can't contact the person who's drilling the holes in our library walls and sticking the lights up there."

The more Takeru spoke, the more he began to understand just what had happened in this town before and why everyone was so frantic. It hadn't just been one strange occurrence. It hadn't just been one mystery. Change had brought about more change that had brought on disaster and pain—and he and Ryouken had arrived right in the thicket of it with their duel disks strapped to their wrists. They must have looked like the most dangerous culprits in the north, and even if Takeru considered most technology to be some form of witchcraft, Kiku would have known what he was carrying with him. She would have seen the duel disk and remembered the machine that took Hal away.

"I don't know if we're ready to join the rest of the world."

He was at the edge of the world, so far away.

"What's it like down there?" Takeru asked, in a sort of soft, awed voice a child might use to ask a parent what it's like to be an adult, the sort of question with an answer too big to fit into a single sentence.

He tucked his chin against the railing and blew a breath from his chapped lips. "Loud."

"In what way?"

"In that everything makes noise all at once. You can hardly hear yourself think out there."

Takeru leaned against the railings, starlight framing the corner of his jaw. "And what else?"

"Busy. Den City is massive."

"Den City, huh?" Takeru mumbled, again and again. The way he said it reminded Yuusaku of someone just learning a new language and sounding on the words. Takeru sounded even more like a newly-moved immigrant when he asked, "Are there wires out there too?"

"Computers and TVs."

"And do they ..." Takeru dropped his voice to a hushed whisper, and leaned closer as if about to share a private secret. "Do they melt your brains?"

Yuusaku snorted and took a deep sip from his cup else he lose his composure. "Only the old folks who haven't been around for the rise in technology."

"And do I remind you of those old folks?" Takeru said.

He bowed his head down, staring at the dark blanket stretching across the town. Without a single streetlight, the city blended into the world. The stars overheard were bright enough to light up the sky, and without the artificial light they were distinctly stars and constellations that he wished he could name. 

"Do I?" Takeru asked again.

"A bit."

"Then learn from me: change is hard and scary."

He had to laugh at that, even if he sounded insincere. Takeru laughed along with him, trying to mask his chuckling by chugging from his cup. Instead of covering his laughter, he jolted forward with a cough and spat coffee over the ledge. Yuusaku jumped forward to pat him on the back, but Takeru kept on laughing and scrubbing at his face, looking far more like someone who had had a few too many on a good night out than an idiot who had choked on his tea.

"'m fine, I'm fine," he said, brushing off Yuusaku's concerns. "But I mean what I said."

"Good things come with change too," he said. His ears burned once he heard the words ring back to him, and once more Takeru was chuckling. He couldn't stay still, rolling along the bannister, swinging his legs together. Nervous ticks, Yuusaku imagined. He hadn't seen such behaviours on Takeru before, but then again, the times Takeru would have been nervous were the times Yuusaku found himself ignoring him and pushing on.

"Say ..." Takeru sobered, leaning forward over the rails once more. "If we got wires for electric lights, would those same wires let us make a .... a telephone call?"

He felt like he was talking to an alien who had never interacted with human technology, but Takeru had asked the question earnestly. He truly did believe that all wires were the same, and that the electric lights operated on the same technology that allowed for telephone calls. Yuusaku wasn't even sure where to begin with the response; would he need to explain the concept of telephones to Takeru?

Takeru swirled the cold coffee left in his mug, letting the remaining tendrils of steam curl over the edge. "I only ask because I bet it's quicker than sending a letter down to Den City."

"You want to ..."

"To call. Not often, as I'm sure you have a job over there. But the kids told me that you crawled into a tunnel and found some wires to connect to. You were able to talk to someone on a bright screen. I ... I don't think I want a screen, but if there was even a way to keep in touch without some crazy high tech, then I think maybe I would like to try it."

As far as Takeru was concerned, any wire could become a telephone line. Yuusaku still held the thought in the back of his mind. Yet he couldn't squash Takeru's genuine kindness for the sake of proving a point about technology. This Takeru wanted to talk. This kind friend who had only wanted to keep his village safe from dangerous devices and plots to take away free will. Yuusaku wouldn't even know where to begin to describe  _ that  _ plan, and still Takeru trusted him. He listened to him. When they returned to the proper world outside of the simulation, the Takeru waiting for them would doubt them will all his heart. He'd never want to talk to them again.

And just after he'd gotten to know him too ...

As gently as he could, Yuusaku smiled. "I think we can make that work."

Takeru bounced on his heels, nearly upsetting his cup once more. "When you get back from the ship then? We'll take more."

His smile turned strained; Yuusaku forced his lips into place. "Of course."

The silence between them was minute, no more than a pause for breath. Takeru pushed himself back onto his feet and headed towards the door. Yuusaku followed after him. As soon as he stepped indoors, goosebumps rippled across his skin and he shivered. He hadn't noticed how cold it had become on the patio, but in the cafe the fire roared in the fireplace, and everything glowed amber. Every bone in his body wished to sink back into the cushioned chair and close his eyes, but he remained standing and waited for Spectre and Ryouken to rise with him.

Kiku gathered herself from her seat, brushing at her long skirts. "Are you sure you won't stay the night? There's really no rush ..."

"Best not to leave these sorts of matters," Spectre said with a wry smile. He slipped forward into a bow, and in the sincere voice one might use to address a prince and princess, said, "Thank you for your hospitality."

"Yes," Ryouken said.

Yuusaku dug an elbow into his side.

Ryouken stiffened. "Thank you."

Yuusaku dipped forward into slight bow. "Thank you for your generosity."

Kiku and Takeru squirmed like embarrassed teens caught in the centre of attention. Their pink faces burned not only from the toasty room, and neither of them could make eye contact until the tone in the room mellowed. Peeking through her bangs, Kiku looked like she wanted to hug them all; Takeru seemed of similar opinion as he scratched at the sides of his trousers.

They'd overstayed their visit though, and even Yuusaku, as much as he wished he could spend the night away with them, listening to stories and drinking coffee and eating toast, knew they ought to be on their way. He took Ryouken's hand and headed towards the door.

Takeru's single footstep echoed through the cafe.

"We'll hear from you again, won't we?"

Yuusaku glanced over his shoulder, expecting tears in Takeru's eyes. There was only joy, brimming from ear to ear like he'd drunk some magical, glowing potion.

"You will," Yuusaku said, and closed the door behind him.

Spectre swung his arms up over his head and yawned loudly. "You know the folks back in the proper world won't be nearly this kind or generous, correct?"

Ryouken huffed. "I could almost tolerate these people."

"They were afraid of our duel disks, you know? All of ours."

Ryouken turned to him, and rather than blurt out a snark retort, asked, "Is that what the man told you?"

"Mhm." It felt too personal to relay everything Takeru has shared with him in the moments on the patio, but at the same time Yuusaku felt like why Spectre and Ryouken were so indifferent to the people was simply because they did not understand their fears. In a way, Yuusaku didn't get them either. Technology melting your brain sounded as irrational as could be. But irrationality struck him in moments of trauma too; he would feel the helmet back on his head, the electric shocks coursing through him whenever he failed. Were those fears more rational than the worry of being taken by something that had killed Hal? Sure, Takeru had lived out of Kiku and Miyu's fears, but in a way being so disconnected from the rest of the world had stirred up anxieties that no one could quell. Left alone out here, the people were breathing the stress of their living.

On the walk out to the beach, Yuusaku told them what he had learnt from Kusanagi too. His voice cracked and broke each time he spoke, but holding Ryouken's hand helped him harness the building nausea. Each time he felt himself slip away, vision blurring, Ryouken would squeeze his hand and draw him back to his senses. Back then, it had been Ryouken's voice egging him on. Now, simply having Ryouken at his side was like his emotional support human.

"So Hal and Bohman are working together to give each other a gift?"

Yuusaku tapped his own duel disk, drawing up the save file Kusanagi had left for him. Even without service, he could still access any downloads. "Hal wants to give Bohman free will, and Bohman wants to give Hal a proper body."

"And how does he plan to give an AI a corporeal body?" Ryouken asked. "We've come across AIs before and they don't appear human. They get locked into little robots that wheel around and do tasks."

"Maybe he's building a mecha," Spectre said.

Ryouken looked like he wanted to swat him. "Seriously?"

"Wholly serious. Hal's a human, isn't he? All the robots we've met have  _ AIs  _ implanted in them, so imagine the difficulty putting a human into a mechanical form. Wouldn't it be so much easier to build a mecha and have a human control it?"

Yuusaku rubbed at his eyes. Spectre's idea didn't sound wrong, simply a little to fantasy-based and far-fetched. "Kusanagi thinks Bohman is searching for treasure buried somewhere within the city."

Spectre's sing-song voice echoed down the road. "Like a mecha~"

Ryouken sighed towards the sky. "They don't even have lights in this city, so why would they have mechas?"

"Because often times they're buried underground only to be unearthed by a valiant hero who was destined to pilot it."

Spectre had a point, but Yuusaku kept his lips together. They hadn't seen any notion that there were robots buried beneath the city, and more likely, Hal was controlling technology. If Bohman wanted to create a proper body for Hal, he needed something human-like—a human child, in fact. But none of the children had seemed suitable if the results of returned children were anything to go off of.

Ryouken crossed his arms over his chest. "And Hal wants the children's free will."

Yuusaku leapt off the final step and landed on the soft beach sand. He'd come out to the beach at nighttime before, but it was long past midnight and the moon hung like a great, white lantern. Stars filled the entire black space, speckled like paint drops. In places the black sky gave way to dark pinks and blues that could have been far-off galaxies. He'd seen high-optical photographs of swirling, colourful galaxies, planets, and stars in space, but even out at Stardust Road, the sky was littered with artificial light. However, out here it was the sea that was empty—not a single star had dropped into the water. He could tell just where the sky ended and the sea began by the inky blur stretching in front of him, all the way to a point where a line of stars dabbed the end of the horizon.

How they were expected to find a way onto the ship in the night, Yuusaku didn't know. The lantern Kiku had lent them once more only gave a thin beam of light; out on the beach, the darkness was near-corporeal. He passed Ryouken his duel disk, but the flashlight provided even less light. The darkness swallowed it just pass fingertip length.

Spectre's feet splashed into the cold water. He tensed and shivered, but kept marching forward, kicking his feet out in front of him.

"It'll be in the water somewhere," Spectre said through clenched teeth.

Not a minute later, Spectre's foot hit the metal bridge with a resounding  _ clang! _

Yuusaku jumped at the sound and shone the lantern light at the bridge. He'd seen more than one bridge lead onto the ship, and for the first time a seed of worry planted itself in his belly that there was a  _ wrong  _ way onto the ship. Before he could wheel back though, Ryouken climbed onto the bridge and began marching forward. His steps seemed far steadier than before. His concussion must have been receding, or the darkness was helping the recovery.

He followed after Ryouken, letting Spectre take up the rear. With each step he took, Yuusaku listened for the creak of cogs or the whir of electricity. He was certain now that both Bohman and Hal could operate this ship's bridges like tentacles. They didn't need a repeat from before of them clinging onto the bridges with all their strength. Takeru wouldn't be able to rescue them this time.

"Do you think they already know?" Spectre asked, doing nothing to lower his voice.

Yuusaku kept his lantern facing forward, but in its meagre glow he could still see Spectre behind him, swinging his arms to and fro.

Spectre continued: "We haven't seen Bohman since this morning, I believe. And you saw Hal, didn't you?"

"Hal doesn't have a human body, so I don't even know if he can exist anywhere with technology." Yuusaku tightened his grip round the handle as the bridge creaked beneath him. "So if he is within the ship, he should know we're already here."

"But can he do much though?" Spectre pressed, still speaking in that light, airy tone.

The memory of wires round his legs was still fresh. He could even feel the ghost of something else wrapped around him, weighing down his limbs. Beneath this arm were wires too—could Hal pull those from beneath the metal casing and throw them off the ship? Had he been able to operate the ship all along?

Ahead of him, Ryouken pressed a hand to his head. "Was he the one that put the helmets on our heads then?"

In the panic of that encounter, Yuusaku could hardly remember what had happened. He'd tried to run away, taking Ai and Ryouken by the hands, reaching out for Spectre too to ensure no one was left behind. But he didn't remember how the helmet had gotten on his head, only that one minute he could see the room, and the next minute the world had gone black and someone had crushed something over his skull. The panic had erased all tangible pieces of that memory, leaving behind a hazy fear and a lingering feeling that there was still something pressing into his skull.

"Maybe," Spectre said.

"Probably," Yuusaku whispered.

Ryouken turned back to him, accidentally shining the flashlight into his eyes. "What?"

"Hal can control AI-compatible technology. If this ship has AI interfaces, then he'll be able to get into it."

Spectre tipped his head down to the bridge beneath their feet; Yuusaku stared at his feet too, waiting for the metal to slip out from under them.

Ryouken tossed his duel disk from hand to hand, letting the light bounce into the air like a tumbling star. "And that's why there's no AI interface on here."

A saving grace, Yuusaku had to admit. Hal had been shocked to figure that out, and even as a long-dead human who probably didn't know as much about Den City as them, he was surprised there was a person not semi-possessed by AI interfaces. Ryouken looked far too proud as he continued to toss the flashlight from hand to hand.

For a trip onto the boat, the elements of surprise and silence were severely lacking.

He felt the ground beneath his feet change but not shift—they'd stepped onto the boat itself, and this time there were minute ridges leading towards the centre. Yuusaku followed them, dragging the soles of his feet over the bumps, until they reached the pithole in the middle of the ship. His hands found the sturdy metal ladder and, taking a breath for courage, he was the first one to slip through the hole and down into the belly of the ship. He held the handle of the bulky lantern in his mouth. If he twisted his head side to side, he could see the tunnel slowly growing wider, until the beam could no longer reach to the edges of the room. He figured they'd slipped into the room and would soon hit the bottom, but it was another five minutes of climbing before they stepped onto the cool, steel floor.

As soon as his foot touched solid ground, lights sparkled beneath his feet. He jumped back onto the ladder, hiking his feet up to his belly and clinging for his life. Ryouken, who had just been above him, scurried up to give him room, and grabbed onto his jacket hood for good measure. 

Spectre whistled lowly. "Well that's new."

Ryouken hoisted him up another rung or two. "I can't tell whether that's a harmless new feature or a deadly defense mechanism."

"It didn't zap me," Yuusaku said. A small favour, in the grand scheme of things. He reached into his pocket and pulled out another mint—this one not from the inn that they had never visited, but from the candy bowl at the back of Kusanagi's truck. His shop was always stocked with wrapped sweets to give kids when they came round for their afterschool snack. Like the mint he had used to roll down the passageways, Yuusaku dropped this mint down onto the ground. As soon as it made contact, the floor lit up with a bright yellow beam. However, without any incline, it rolled to a stop not even three feet away from where it was dropped.

Above him came the sound of crackly plastic being unwrapped. "Here, let me try," Spectre said, and he dropped another sweet—the exact same kind of mint—down onto the floor. As if they were playing a strange game of pool, the two mints ricocheted off each other and scattered down the hall—but only one beam of light followed the mint, leading out towards a hollow opening in the room.

They had fallen into a different room. The walls were barren, not a single LCD monitor in sight. He couldn't see himself eerily reflected anywhere, not even on the ground where colours popped and burst like a strange computer game. But it remained clear that there was a path they were meant to take—the light had only followed one of the mints.

"We go the other way then," Ryouken said with a firm nod. He leapt off the ladder, landing with a dull thud on the ground. Like flower petals, rainbow colours burst beneath his feet. He extended a hand to Yuusaku, and waited with his arms crossed for Spectre to come down too.

Yuusaku gazed down the corridor. The light was still glowing, albeit fainter than before. "You think that way is a trap?"

"If Hal can manipulate technology, he's likely got control of this ship. If he doesn't want us to go this way, then he'll stop us—and that means whatever we're going after is important."

The lantern and flashlight they'd brought down were even less effective in this strange, black-hole-like darkness. But the more Yuusaku thought about possible traps, the more likely it seemed that Hal was guiding them towards a particular room—and by this point, he wouldn't be giving them any pointers to escape the simulation. Time was ticking over their heads, and just like a child, Hal would want to win.

As his lamp provided the strongest light, Yuusaku marched in the front. He swung the lantern from side to side in case they caught sight of any other strange happenings, but the room was empty. Dry too, he mused, and it was another blessing to count on his chilled fingers.

They had no plan, he realised too. Not a shred of an idea what to do. They were following this path only because the light hadn't led them that way, but the further they walked, the more Yuusaku wondered whether they'd headed into a large tunnel or were still wandering in the room. Before, the room had taken on different dimensions. While this room was different, no doubt it could be manipulated too. The fear was whether Hal could manipulate it from anywhere in the ship, or if there was a control room.

They walked for several minutes longer before Yuusaku swung the lantern back around. "How do we know we're out of the room?"

"We're away from the lights," Ryouken said. He pointed his flashlight to either side of them but caught sight of nothing but the floor glowing under their feet. For having light-up floors, the room was still far too dark.

Yuusaku bent down and tapped his hand to one of the panels. It glowed, but even more concerning came a dull echo.

"It's hollow," he murmured, tapping the floor once more.

"Are these the screens?" Spectre asked. He knocked on the ground too, watching colours burst from where his knuckles had hit. Then he dragged his fingers along the side until they stopped. A slow, eerie smile spread over his face. "No, panels."

"There's more than one?" Ryouken crouched down next to him and ran his hands across the floor. Yuusaku copied too. Sure enough, there were minute, hairsbreadth divets in the ground to mark the different panels. Rather than being an interactive screen, this place was like a playing field divided into sections. In video games, this would have been where they worried about stepping on the wrong panel and killing themselves, but if they'd walked so far already and not hit it, it seemed unlikely they would find it now.

Hooking his fingers against the divet, Yuusaku pulled up. The miniscule bit of ledge he'd managed to lift slipped against his fingertips, and the panel fell down with a dull crash. He swore under his breath. Spectre and Ryouken had heard though, and they knelt next to him with their fingers pressed to the divet.

"Again," Ryouken said, and on the mark they heaved up. He felt it slipping once more, but Yuusaku crammed his hand underneath. Together, the three of them lifted the panel. Underneath were a series of wires threaded together in an awful, tangled mess. It looked like a  _ ball  _ of wires with no end in sight. Ryouken jabbed the end of his duel disk into the tangled mess, pushing at the wires. Yuusaku expected them to band together like some live monster, and his calves flexed in preparation to run full-force through the ship. But the wires parted like the fucking Red Sea, revealing a ladder leading down deeper into the ship.

"Up above the main room all along," Ryouken said with a dry laugh. He pointed his duel disk down the tunnel, and to their collective surprise, the light tore through the darkness.

They were looking down into the laboratory. Yuusaku remembered the mess in that room: the dirty, dusty shelves; the books, vials, and tools scattered over every available surface; the clutter that seemed to swallow them up. He couldn't see the glass tube Bohman had been in, nor the computer without a keyboard that had been propped up against the boxes, but he was certain they were both down there, or would be soon.

No one had to speak the rule aloud, but they kept their mouths shut as they stepped down the ladder. Yuusaku went first again; he hadn't volunteered, and the others hadn't volunteered him either, but with the lamp, he had the strongest weapon to fight someone off. As he climbed, he held the lantern at the ready. At most, swinging it would knock Bohman aside, but it would buy them a second or two of time.

Just before they slipped out of the passage and into the room through the ceiling, Yuusaku paused and peered over the ledge.

Bohman  _ was  _ in the room. He was seated on the floor, legs crossed neatly in front of him. Dozens of large wires were stuck into his bare chest. The tubes themselves appeared clear, but moving through them was a pulsing yellow liquid. However, Bohman wasn't glowing the same way that Hal did; in fact, he didn't seem to recognise that he was hooked up to anything at all, or that he was being watched from above.

Ryouken leaned over his shoulder and sucked in a breath. Yuusaku wished he could squeeze his hand or even speak up, but with Bohman so close, he was worried that any sound would alert him to their presence.

Fortunately, the computer was across the room from Bohman. When they'd first entered the room, it had been divided by messy shelves; these still remained but had been moved to the edges of the office, and from above, Yuusaku could see the untouched computer. Hal wasn't there either. Thus, their mission was simple: slip around the dividers and head to the computer on the boxes.

At Ryouken's hip swung the mouse. With all the damage it had suffered, Yuusaku wasn't even sure if it could click, but it was the best chance they had at accessing that computer.

He slowed his breaths to soft inhales and exhales. The ladder ended just before the ceiling, but the drop from the ladder to the floor was, at most, a foot or two if he hung from the bottom rung. He felt like a criminal on display as he lowered himself into the room. Every nerve prickled against his skin. Bohman remained seated, eyes closed, unaware that anything was happening into the room.

Above him, Ryouken and Spectre remained poised on the rungs, ready to spring down the instant the situation went direly wrong. They hadn't formed any plan, but they all knew the way out was down here, either through the computer or locked somewhere else in the room.

His sweaty fingers clung to the rungs. Bohman hadn't moved; Hal hadn't appeared. Yuusaku almost wished they had so he could stop fretting over every little sound. He dangled from the bottom rung. Less than two feet to the floor. The landing wouldn't be loud, but it would alert Bohman if he were merely meditating with his eyes closed.

Like peeling back a bandage from a wound, Yuusaku rolled his fingertips off the final rung.

His feet his the floor with the weight of feathers. The floor swallowed up the shock and sound, leaving him discombobulated that he hadn't actually landed. Was he still floating? What had possibly gone wrong? But he was standing in the middle of the room, body as tense as a coil, and not a single dust mote in the room had been disturbed.

He shuffled out of the way to let Ryouken and Spectre come down, and they too landed feather-lightly.

Spectre looked ready to snap his fingers in pleasure, but held off, paused, and then waved his hands from side to side.

Ryouken slammed his fist into his forehead and marched forward.

Yuusaku had seen the section the computer was in from above, but the space seemed even smaller and messier from the ground; there simply wasn't any space for them to stand together, so they peeked around Ryouken's shoulders as he crouched in front of the PC. The same, blank screen stared back at them.

Yuusaku squeezed Ryouken's shoulder as Ryouken slipped the USB end into the side of the computer; there had been ports along the monitor all along, clogged with dust and appearing unusable. He held his breath, waiting for the cursor to move.

_ Driver installed,  _ the screen read.

Spectre waved his hands once more.

A mouse gave them one access to the computer, albeit a slow, methodical one. Ryouken opened up the computer's administration. Cursed. Opened their on-screen keyboard.

Yuusaku held his breath.

Spectre chuckled under his breath.

_ Click.  _ the mouse had sand in it, and each time Ryouken clicked it, the small granules scratched against the plastic. Any other time, the noise would have been a minor inconvenience. But it was loud. Echoing. Nails on a chalkboard. And worse, Yuusaku had to strain his ears to tell whether it was the mouse or someone coming closer, peering around the bookcases and watching them.

_ Is there AI interfacing on this computer?  _ Yuusaku wanted to ask. He couldn't see any threads, and this computer was certainly older than the rise of AIs—but Hal could have modified it.

Was Hal watching them from within? Was he staring back at them, waiting for them to slip up? Could he see Ryouken methodically click-typing each letter as he tried to search the computer for any information, any way to get their helmets off?

_ Click. Scratch. Click. Scratch. _

Yuusaku squeezed Ryouken's shoulder even harder.

The dim PC screen glowed with a new window.

_ Delete program file: AI[HELMETS].vr _

It was a miracle none of them blurted out, "Is it really that easy?" It felt like it. The screen hadn't disappeared. The file didn't appear corrupted. Ryouken had been clicking and searching without finding it too easily. But now that the way out was in front of them, all Yuusaku could think of was what could go wrong if they deleted that file. Would the helmets come off? Would they return back to their world?

He glanced behind him, expecting to see Bohman and Hal lurking the shadows, eager to see their trap succeed. But the room was still empty.

Quietly, Spectre slunk back towards the way out. He peered round the shelves. "He's gone."

Yuusaku froze.

The helmet squeezed his head, and this time not only could he feel it, but he could see it—a great submarine-style helmet that drove his head down into his shoulders. There was a circular window through which he could see the room, but the glass was getting foggier as his breaths came in ragged pants. Frantic hands found the bottom of the helmet and pushed up. Stuck. No matter how much he wiggled his hands under the helmet, he couldn't seem to pry it from his skull.

Through the foggy window pane, he could see Ryouken and Spectre yanking at their own helmets.

_ Did you know these helmets on your heads are compatible with AIs?  _ Haru's voice echoed around them. Yuusaku could imagine the little blond boy standing before them, arms crossed over his chest wearing the triumphant smirk of a winner.

The air had become thinner. The room colder. Yuusaku fumbled to the side, landing on the boxes holding the computer. It crashed to the floor; were it a newer model, it would have undoubtedly shattered, but this monitor was a brick and merely hit the floor with a dull thud. The mouse was still plugged into its back.

Yuusaku scrambled to the screen. Ryouken  _ had  _ disabled the AI helmets but they were still on their heads. Had he merely deleted a part of the file? Just erased the coding so now they could see what they had been wearing all along?

Behind him, Ryouken pulled himself to his feet. He looked like he'd run ten miles and back in the freezing snow. His concussion seemed to have worsened, forcing him to sway from side to side and exert most of his concentration on staying upright. Yuusaku reached out to steady him, but Ryouken pulled himself up by his bootstraps, chin stuck out.

Bohman was nowhere to be seen. It seemed like neither a blessing nor a curse when put in perspective. If he did appear, Ryouken and Spectre would have to deal with Hal—who none of them could see—and Bohman—who seemed strong and swift. Luck was only partially in their favour, it seemed.

Yuusaku scrambled to the computer. If he were touch-typing a blurry keyboard, that would have been a piece of cake. But he'd never once used the on-screen keyboard and clicking each individual key with the mouse proved as difficult as it was arduous. He didn't even have to turn around to know that, two letters in, he had caught Hal's attention.

"What are you—"

"Hal!"

He heard what happened before he saw it: a pained, blood-curdling scream from Hal that bounced in his helmet like a dangerous ping-pong ball. Each time it ricocheted off the wall, Hal's screaming grew in volume. He sounded like he'd been stabbed or worse, but he wasn't corporeal, or at least he hadn't been a second ago, and so when Yuusaku flung around, he wasn't sure where he ought to be looking.

Bohman had crashed into the room, but was since on his hands and knees. A sizable chunk of glass was buried in his shoulder; how far it had been stuck in, Yuusaku couldn't tell, but Bohman's face was pinched in pain. For the first time, he properly displayed emotion. His finger pressed into the wound as he groaned towards the floor.

Standing behind Bohman was Ryouken. His curled fist was scarlet red, and a steady flow of blood dripped down his wrist and forearm before pooling onto the floor. With a heavy sigh, Ryouken let his fist drop and sagged his shoulders.

Hal screamed again, making the room ring.

Yuusaku slammed his hands into his ears, but it was as effective as blocking a flood with cotton. He could hear each of Hal's whines no matter what, and if anything covering his ears only seemed to make his head spin further. Of the three of them, only Spectre managed to stay standing, albeit on shaky legs. Ryouken had fallen to the floor first, and by the green along his jawline, he looked seconds away from vomiting. Yuusaku's own stomach churned too, and he could hardly raise his head.

Something snapped at the back of his head, propelling him forward. He had but a second to react, enough time to raise an arm to block his forehead from colliding into the floor. He hit the ground with the momentum of a race car, hitting arm and then forehead into the cement. A groan burned in his lungs. Every muscle in his body hurt. Raising his head was impossible; the helmet was far too heavy. Even opening his eyes strained his weary body, but half-lidded, he could see the computer lying in front of him.

A single window had appeared on the monitor.

_ Would you like to permanently delete: AI[HELMETS].vr? _

He blinked dazedly.

Delete ... helmets ...

The mouse lie directly in front of him, as if a benevolent stranger had thrown a lifeboat out to his drowning corpse. He took the mouse in one shaky hand and dragged it forward. One click—that was all it would take. But his body was tired. His  _ soul  _ was tired. This entire trip was meant to help him relax and all along he'd been on edge. Now, he felt like he could properly sleep the day away. The buzzing in the back of his mind had long become a familiar sound, and if he ignored the pained screams and itchy helmet, he felt at peace.

But if he slept this vacation away ... he would miss the time he wanted to spend with Ryouken. That was what this vacation was about: for both of them to have a holiday together. For both of them to spend time together. He didn't need to peer over his shoulder to know Ryouken was right behind him. He always had been.

The final, scratchy click echoed through the ship.

When Yuusaku opened his eyes, the helmet was off his head. He was still lying on the floor and felt like he had been run over by a truck, but this was no longer the simulation. His mind was clear enough to discern that much. He twisted himself onto his back and pushed himself towards the broken computer: no mouse, no exit program, nothing. Ryouken and Spectre were lying on the floor around him, coming to with the same drowsy realisation as he had. Also on the floor was Bohman minus the glass shard protruding from his shoulder. He didn't move an inch.

And crouched on the ground was Hal, holding onto his brother's shirt with shaking fists. He kept grabbing at Bohman's sleeves and arms and hair, whatever he could get his hands onto. He didn't seem to know what to do either, or say, for his words slurred on his small lips. From across the room, he didn't look like a hologram. More than the similarities to Lightning, Hal simply looked like an average human child: corporeal and emotional—and emotional he was as he clung to his brother and shook him ineffectively.

"Brother! Brother—Bohman, wake up! Wake up, why won't you?"

Bohman's only movements came from Hal's incessant shaking.

"Wake up and look at me!"

Weakly, Yuusaku glanced back to the computer. If everyone else had returned and Hal had returned to his human form, then which wires had been mixed up along the way?

Ryouken cleared his throat with a soft cough. "It appears your program only works as well as your research you had gathered."

Hal shook his head, tears leaking down his cheeks. Between his bubbling lips, he could hardly get a word out, but rather than upset, he simply seemed ... sad.

Truly, heart-achingly sad.

It was then Yuusaku saw the other little body lying next to Hal, flopped back on his back with his eyes rolled up to the ceiling. If Bohman looked like a corpse, Ai looked like a cadavre. He didn't move or blink, and his little chest never rose. Yuusaku wanted to shake him—wanted to wake him up. But something had gone wrong. Truly, horribly wrong. He couldn't even begin to put a thought to what had happened as his chest swelled and he fell forward on his hands.

Somehow, by some horrible luck, Ai hadn't made it back with them.


	13. Chapter 13

There were only a few times in his life that he'd truly felt sorrow. Fear, he'd felt that plenty of times. He'd been afraid more times than he could count with stars in the sky: little things he'd been afraid of like strangers following too closely or dark shadows under the bed; normal fears like passing a class or graduating high school with any useful talent under his belt. Then there were  _ his  _ fears, brought on by the Lost Incident trauma and the subsequent therapy he received. Getting over one's fears meant facing the monsters head on, even those in his head. He'd skipped meals, screamed, cried—awful feelings for a six year old to live with.

But throughout those moments he had been  _ afraid. _

Now, he felt sad. He wasn't afraid for Ai or Bohman, or for any of them in the great, metal ship. Or at least, this didn't feel like the fear he felt. There was an emptiness in his chest, a cavity he wasn't sure how to feel about. And when he pulled Ai's lifeless body onto his lap, the hole only grew larger.

He was a shell of a human. The two children from before who'd slept on cots in Miyu's house had more structural integrity than Ai, who kept sliding off his lap and flopping to the floor. Even Bohman looked more intact. Ai's usually bright eyes were closed, and his lips, often moving as fast as he could make them to spout whatever nonsense he'd thought up not two seconds before, were dry. Not even a wisp of breathe rose into the air. He was stiller than fallen snow and as cold as a winter day.

"He's not dead, is he?" Only Spectre could speak of the dead so casually in a dire situation.

Yuusaku bit his lip, refusing to meet his stare.

Ryouken moved closer to him. Yuusaku leant close, searching for some warm embrace—a tangible, living feeling. He brought a hand to Ai's cheek, then up to his nose. Then he glared at Haru with all the strength of a storm.

"What did you do?"

Hal hadn't looked up from Bohman.

"Hal."

Hal clung tightly to Bohman's shirt. His little, wobbly chin rested on Bohman's chest that rose with slow, even breaths; Hal's own breaths where choked and raspy as tears streamed down his eyes. Not once did he looked anywhere but to his brother.

Ryouken moved forward, out to grab Hal. Yuusaku snatched his hand back.

"Hal," he tried, forcing his voice to remain calm, "what happened to your brother and Ai?"

From between Hal's cracked lips came a single, pained whine.

Spectre opened his mouth to speak too, but Yuusaku raised another hand. They needed to think clearly. Carefully. Hal may have been an AI, but here he seemed much more like the child he was before the accident—and a child who seemed to think he had just lost a brother. As much as Ai's status concerned him, it would do no good to interrogate another child. Hal probably didn't even know what had happened either.

Carefully, he took Ai into his arms and hoisted him up onto his shoulder. He was feather-light, and though he always seemed tall—and loud—in person, pressed against Yuusaku's chest he felt no larger that a toy teddy bear, and as light as one too. The lack of warm breaths against his neck made Yuusaku's skin crawl, but he kept Ai still.

_ What now?  _ he wanted to ask.

By their surroundings, they'd undoubtedly returned to the original universe. The computer had been reset to its original position on the boxes, and the mouse was nowhere to be seen. While the room was still its dirty, disheveled, and disorganised state, it was nowhere the level of chaos it had been when they'd all run like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to escape or remain in the simulation. Around the corner he found the test tube Bohman had been in, empty. The helmets they'd worn on their heads were hanging from the ceiling; they'd been there all along, and in the disastrous state of the room, he hadn't noticed them. How they'd attached to his head was a mystery for another time.

"Were we supposed to take him back with us?" Ryouken asked. He tapped the dusty books on the shelves. Any of these books could have held the answer, but they also appeared in such a state that he doubted they could be good for anything other than paperweights.

"No." There was nothing that said they should have. They should have all woken up back here, unharmed. But not only was Ai gone, but Bohman too—and what did those have in common? They weren't in the same location, were they? He hadn't seen Bohman in the room, only now that he was lying on the floor. Hal being corporeal was another mystery too.

"He wasn't even an abduction victim either." Spectre knelt close and brushed Ai's bangs from his brow. There wasn't a mark on the child, not from the simulation helmet nor from whatever happened in the simulation or during the escape. He looked like he'd fallen into a deep sleep.

"What about the others then?"

Yuusaku blinked at Ryouken's question. It felt like days since they'd last seen Lightning and Earth, and the only way they'd find any results would be to see for themselves. But that would mean returning to Miyu, Takeru, and Kiku with an unconscious Ai. Already he could feel the anxiety and shame build. These village adults didn't trust them. They didn't think their presence could bring anything but bad luck. At one point he'd hoped to repair the relationship between them and the villagers, but now? With Ai unconscious? The adults would never forgive them. They would never trust again.

One of them in the room, either Ryouken or Spectre, was probably thinking they could lie about this. They couldn't.

Hal was still lying atop his brother, his sobs bouncing off the wall with much the same frequency as his earlier screams. But in human form, no bigger than any of the other children living at the village, Yuusaku could only offer sympathy.

"Hal. Come with us."

Hal shook his head.

"You know the residents of the village. I know you do. Kiku and Miyu, and Takeru, and the children."

"What can they do for him?" Ryouken asked.

"We can't leave him here."

A soft ah of realisation floated through the room.

"And he knows about the computers in this village," Yuusaku continued. "So Hal, if you will?"

Though Hal may have been little, and in ways a child, he was Miyu, Kiku, and Takeru's age mentally. Slowly, he pulled himself off of Bohman and wiped at his running eyes and nose. He kept one hand on his brother's shirt, then slid it down to his wrist. He refused to meet their gazes as they crouched around.

"We'll visit the village first and then proceed from there."

Spectre scoffed. "You think we should see the adults with their unconscious child?"

"Better than lying."

Ryouken shook his head. "They won't forgive us."

"They already don't." Yuusaku stood and waited for Hal to follow. He stood on shaking legs, gaze to the floor.

Tense silence filled between them.

"What if I watch the kid?"

Ryouken blinked at Spectre, the look a boss might give a subordinate for a truly foolish idea.

"We won't tell them we lost the kid or whatever you would like to call what has happened, but you and Yuusaku'll go to the village, learn what you need to learn, and fix this before they figure out who’s missing."

He and Spectre had little more than an acquaintanceship, and yet he understood Spectre even less as the words sunk in. They would lie to the villagers? After everything that had happened?

"Fine by me." Ryouken had agreed readily—so readily that he was already heading towards the door and back out of the ship.

"F-fine?" Yuusaku balled his hands into fists. "Ryouken, we can't just lie—"

"To people for their own good?" His words words soft, but his meaning clear. His feet still in the doorway, trembling over the frame. "Do you think telling the truth will always bring people happiness? That they ought to know the truth?"

If there was meaning in Ryouken's words, he wasn't about to parse through them. He wasn't going to let Ryouken walk away either. In two clear steps, Yuusaku cleared the space between them, standing tall and resolute. Ryouken had always been taller, but while he could raise himself up like a god to most men, to Yuusaku he always remained Ryouken, two inches taller than him, two years older than him, and still his lover.

"What good will lying do?" he asked.

"Bring them peace. Save us the trouble of having to explain our mishaps once more."

"But don't they deserve to know?"

"No." Again, so clearly and resolutely. It resounded in the room like a single roll of thunder. "It would do them more harm than good."

Never before had Ryouken talked about 'harming' anyone. The Knights of Hanoi didn't think about harm. Ryouken had never had to consider negative consequences when it came to people. He simply  _ did.  _ But Ryouken hadn't moved an inch—hadn't pushed on.

As soft as a feather, Ryouken laid a hand on his arm. "If a lie will mar your good conscience, I'll tell it to them. I've lied worse. But." Ryouken's fingers pressed against his bony arm. "We will sort this out. You have my word."

Less than an inch separated their faces. Yuusaku could have kissed him were Spectre not watching them like a hawk. He didn't kiss Ryouken in public company, but by the warmth in his gut, he knew he ought to do something. So he reached forward, closed the gap between them with a single finger, and walked his hands up Ryouken's chest, all the way to his chin. At twenty years old, he still had his teenage fat on his face, but Ryouken was sharp lines and chipped curves.

"I'll let you do the talking then." The same warmth swelled in his heart, hot enough to melt ice-capped mountains. But as the moment lingered, with it came with the embarrassment that he didn't know what to do next. How to end the moment.

Ryouken pecked him on the hand, little more than a nibble across the finger, and then broke away to turn to Spectre. "Can I trust you with a child?"

Spectre lifted his chin. "You can."

"Then good. We'll be back. Hal?"

Hal didn't even bat an eyelash. Ryouken approached. Kneeling down, he was still larger than Hal, and the boy seemed to shiver under the shadow he created. He still clung to Bohman like it was his lifeline.

"Don't you want to see your brother again?"

Hal nodded mutely.

"Don't you want to fix what has happened?"

Another nod.

"Then let's go figure this out once and for all."

Hal dropped Bohman's finger, letting the arm flop to the floor. Yuusaku turned and headed to the door with one eye pricked for Hal. He followed without a word, dragging himself across the room as if he only had enough energy to move. A part of Yuusaku wondered if Hal had simply become a good hologram, but when he stood next to them, the human qualities were uncanny. He had returned as a human boy—somehow.

Ryouken saluted Spectre with a short wave. "We'll be back."

Spectre saw them off with a wave of his own. "I've always liked the silence of company anyways."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryouken smirked like Spectre had told the best joke.

They headed back through the winding corridors of the ship. Yuusaku had traveled through these tunnels so many times before that they looked as familiar as the walls of his bedroom—in fact, he could probably name more details in the ship than in his house. This vacation felt like it had lasted an entire season. But when they broke the surface and stared out at the seaside village, no more than a few minutes had past. The beach was still covered in tech-junk. A single arm of the ship stretched out the shore, parting the black waters in a single, grey stripe. The town was silent. Not a single person wandered the shores. As they walked across the metal bridge, he anticipated a little head peeking round the tree trunks and watching them with wide, curious eyes. The children were everywhere. But on the walk through the town to the cafe, they didn't pass a single soul.

As they passed Miyu's cottage, he peered through the window. Though time hadn't passed in the village since they put on the helmets, the house looked duller than before. The plants drooped and hung, and the only light in the entire house came from the upstairs window. She was with Lightning and Earth then.

Yuusaku felt a stone lodge in his throat. "You don't think the other children got caught too?"

"They're probably in hiding. When we left this village, we weren't on the best of terms with anyone and the situation was going to shit."

It hadn't improved since then either.

The cafe was naturally the brightest building in the village. The windows were open even in the cooler weather and the door had been propped back with a large, painted stone. The children must have painted it, using their fingers to draw squiggly lines and shapes, and their full hands to splat handprints along the top.

He kept his head held high as they walked into the cafe.

Unlike the simulation before when Takeru and Kiku would have hugged them with all their strength, the two shop owners stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over their chests. Takeru had one arm behind Kiku, fingers on her waist; Kiku had a single foot forward and a thick scowl across her face. They looked more prepared to throw down a fight than serve a hot meal.

As Hal appeared through the doorway, their expressions changed. A pregnant silence filled the room.

Kiku brought a quivering hand up to her mouth. "H-ha—how?" She glanced from Hal to Ryouken to Yuusaku, all the while pressing her fingers against her face. She couldn't take a single, steady breath. She swayed on her feet, and Takeru gripped her more tightly.

"How?" he said.

Kiku bowed forward. Her legs quivered underneath her, and though she didn't fall to her knees, it was only a matter of time before she did. With each step she took, she folded further into herself, until she was seeing eye-to-eye with Hal who had yet to meet her gaze.

"How did you ..."

Takeru grabbed Kiku's hand and yanked her back. "There's wires in our house."

"Wires?" Frantically, Kiku's head shot up to the ceiling.

Yuusaku stepped forward, not about to let this situation derail itself in one ugly mess of misinformation and hazardous guessing. "There are no wires in your house. If you'll let us explain, we will tell you what has happened."

"Like why he's here?" Takeru's voice cracked on the final note, and his eyes shifted to the corners of the room. Even with the candles and lanterns, there were dark patches in the corners. But the fear of wires no longer frightened Yuusaku—with Bohman unconscious and Hal in a corporeal form, there wouldn't be any more supernatural technological hijinks.

To Takeru, the thought of technological interference was like bringing a weapon into a family home.

Ryouken motioned to the clusters of mismatched chairs and tables all neatly arranged round the room. "Take a seat. Please."

Takeru bristled like a wild cat. "And you'll do what?"

"We just want to talk. Explain."

Kiku shook her head, tugging Takeru closer. The deer in headlights look was awful on them, turning their skin white and ashy and their eyes far too wide and bright. Yuusaku struggled to remember what they had been like when he'd left—the alternate Takeru and Kiku had been so kind. What could he last remember? What could he tell them that would ease their worries?

"How can you explain something like this?" Kiku asked.

"With words you'll understand." Yuusaku motioned to the table, and when Takeru and Kiku didn't budge, he lead Hal and Revolver over to a cluster of chairs. If they were threatening simply by being in the cafe, then a new solution was needed. They sat together, tucked up to a blue-and-red checked tablecloth that resembled a particular wild print of button-down shirt Takeru had once worn.

Ever so slightly, Kiku stepped forward.

"Hal ... is that really ... you?"

Hal lifted his head. He hadn't said a word since they'd left the ship; hadn't raised his head more than an inch either. As he lifted himself up like a tired puppet on twisted strings, he gazed round the room. Yuusaku remembered when he'd first stepped into the cafe and had to take a minute to see clearly: there was simply too much here to begin to look at. But as Hal spotted Kiku standing by the kitchen, his lips curled down and his eyebrows meshed together beneath blond bangs.

"You're ... Miyu?"

"Kiku," she said with a chuckle. "You still mix us up."

For the first time that day, Hal looked human—not just physically, but emotionally. Sparks had appeared in his eyes and colour in his cheeks. He tilted his head to Takeru.

"Who's he?"

"My husband," Kiku said. Even in the tense atmosphere, she still hugged him against her side and squeezed him as if they were still newlyweds. With a glow still on her cheeks, she added, "And Miyu is my wife."

Hal glanced from side to side. "Where's she?"

"With the children," Kiku said. "There's been ... incidents."

"And that's what we'd like to talk about," Ryouken cut in. He pulled out two of the chairs and waved a hand to them. "A seat."

The moment Ryouken had opened his mouth, Takeru had bristled. But Yuusaku remained firm—Takeru wouldn’t ease up, but he wouldn’t rise to the defensive.

"When we went onto the ship, we learnt about what is going on. In order to keep you in the loop, we thought it best to share." Cheeks pinched as he swallowed back a wince. Beneath the table, Ryouken squeezed his thigh.

Neither Kiku nor Takeru budged, until Takeru sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "If it's going to be a story, we'll need drinks. I'll be back."

Kiku patted him on the shoulder as he headed back into the kitchen. Then she gathered her skirts and floated across the room, settling down in one of the chairs next to Ryouken. Yuusaku breathed a sigh of relief that, when Takeru took his seat, it wouldn't be next to Ryouken, yet Kiku still bristled at them. She was fair though—she watched them with her hands pressed tightly together, awaiting their words.

Hal leaned forward in his seat. "How did you move up here?"

Blushing, she curled a free strand from her bun round her finger. "A bit of a long story ..." As soon as she realised her fretting, she folded her hands back together and tucked them into her lap. "But I suppose it's a bit of a long story for you too."

"Is everyone here ... are they OK?"

Kiku blinked.

"Yes, we fare well here. Winters are cold, summers are hot—but we live well and happy on the ocean banks."

Hal hummed; Yuusaku could tell he was unsatisfied. Kiku didn't want to talk about the children with Hal, likely because she thought he had nothing to do with it.

Before they could slip into any further awkward small talk, Takeru returned with heavy mugs full of hot tea and coffee, and several platters of rolls and scones accompanied by pots of jam, honey, and custard. Of all the meals Yuusaku had eaten at the cafe, he'd never seen the same two ingredients: each time there had been new kinds of bread and pastries, and new jams and jellies. Once the food was laid out, they took their fill in silence. Takeru buttered a roll with the care and precision of a skilled craftsman, and Kiku gazed deeply into her stoneware mug. Even Yuusaku found his own tea more inviting than everyone's attentions; he'd prepared himself to speak but not start the discussion, and whenever he tried to open his mouth, the only words that came to mind were those that would have Takeru flipping the table on them.

Ryouken cleared his throat as he set down his own mug. "We'd like to share our findings from the ship."

Takeru and Kiku lifted their heads, just enough that their dull eyes stared back.

"As you are aware, we boarded the ship with the intention to discover just what was going on. What we found were two details." Ryouken held up two fingers, only to drop one. "First, Project BOHMAN. A test to create artificial life—an human-like robot, if you will. I assume you're familiar with that level of technology?"

Takeru shook his head to and fro. "You mean  _ wires.  _ Computers."

Biting the inside of his lip, Ryouken said, "Computers are only a part of technology. Robots are self-controlled, or at least this one was."

The table bounced as Kiku's leg hit it with her shaking. "You're saying there's a  _ robot  _ on the loose? A moving one?"

"No." Ryouken dropped a hand down on the table, enough to cause it to tremble. Plates clattered and mugs sloshed hot tea and coffee over the tablecloth. Deep brown and beige stains appeared in the checkerboard pattern. He sighed heavily and continued. "The other detail we found was Project HAL, a test to recreate free will."

Takeru and Kiku understood this word better, but they still looked like average citizens trying and failing to comprehend rocket science in a single lesson.

"And these projects ..."

"Have caused some glitches in your town." Ryouken clapped his hands together. "Not that your town is wholly unfamiliar with strange disappearances, as I've heard through the grapevine."

Kiku drew her arms around her. Even Yuusaku felt a shiver run down his spine. The room had grown cold and the atmosphere tense. Where the lanterns had once provided a gentle light had been replaced with a growing darkness as flames licked the bottoms of candles and fizzled away. Even the afternoon sun hung outside the window, unable to pass through the clean frame.

"So you know ..." She rose from her seat, but Yuusaku stilled a hand.

"You don't need to show us," Yuusaku said.

Kiku nodded in understanding and returned to her seat.

"What we'd like to know," he continued, hugging his mug, "is if anything has happened to the two boys in Miyu's care?" He crossed his fingers under the table, praying it was only the two and nothing worse had happened.

Takeru scratched at his chin. Not for a second had he stopped glaring at Ryouken, and he didn't lower his eyes as he spoke. "Nothing has changed."

"Why?" Kiku asked. "Did something happen?"

Sweat slicked his palms. Did they know that something had happened to Ai? Had they been looking for him all day? If would be a first considering the children were often running amuck in the village.

"Not necessarily here," Ryouken said. Yuusaku felt ready to drop his head down on the table. Not  _ necessarily? _

Ryouken motioned to Hal. "He's told us about both of these projects, but there have been some complications. Namely, the loss of Project BOHMAN. We need to find a way to bring Bohman back."

Takeru scratched at his chin, and if he could, he would have scratched at his brain too. Yuusaku had seen such a frazzled expression on his own face during his Japanese final exam in high school. "And Bohman is ...?"

"He's yours," Kiku said, turning to Hal. "Your ... your friend, right?"

Hal blinked at her, something akin to wonder in his eyes. Yuusaku doubted Hal and Kiku had seen each other since childhood, and by the way they shared intimate glances from across the table, he had no doubt they had been close friends. But Kiku spoke of Bohman like she hadn't properly met him, even in AI form.

Slowly, Hal nodded. "He didn't make it back ..."

"From where?" Takeru asked.

Yuusaku pinched Ryouken's thigh, and Ryouken spoke in a voice as smooth as silk.

"From the results of the project. Hal here had been trying to make a self-sufficient AI and the results were inconclusive. Bohman has been comatose ever since."

"Like ... the children?" Kiku glanced to the door, out to where Miyu's house must have sat swathed in the evening sun. He hadn't seen Miyu or the children since they'd returned, but likely only Ai would be missing; and if the other children were scampering around the beach, not only would there be no risk of abduction, but Spectre would make sure they never found him. Yuusaku didn't trust a single one of the kids; they would have climbed onto the dangerous ship just for the sake of saying they did it.

"Did this evil technology get Bohman just like it got the boys?"

Hal sat poker-straight.

"It's much more complicated than that," Ryouken said, keeping his voice even.

Takeru growled under his breath. "Then explain it in less complicated words."

Yuusaku cleared his throat to gather their attention. "It was a malfunction on the technology in the area—not that electronics like computers and duel disks can actively hurt someone, but there was a glitch. Something went wrong in the network, or what you call the wires. We couldn't have foreseen it, and we greatly apologise. But there is something we can do."

He felt Takeru's gaze roll over him, a flaming boulder pressing down on his shoulders. Of the three adults, he would have considered Miyu the caretaker and Kiku the leader, but Takeru was the strength—the sticky glue—holding them together. And thus, he was their guardian. A strong protector to everyone there, and the one person one would never want to double-cross. In both universes Yuusaku had seen Takeru's strength and determination. His unwavering protection of the village and all its members. His love for every person under his care. But there was fire coursing through his veins, ready to singe anyone who dare bring the village harm.

Yuusaku had to tread carefully with each of his words. "There's a computer in the forest that we can use. It won't do anyone harm, and it will help us figure out what has happened. But to access it, we need something one of the children found. It's ... do you have a pen and paper?"

Kiku rose from her set and returned with a quill and piece of parchment. He'd been to the library and seen such archaic tools, but he supposed that at least here they would have ball-point pens. He was wrong. Never in his life had he used a quill; they just weren't efficient for Japanese characters, and more for decoration than functionality. He dabbed the tip into the ink and pressed it to the paper. A dark, ugly spot marred the parchment.

"Never used a quill before?" Takeru asked.

Grumbling, Yuusaku dipped the quill into the well once more. This time, he didn't pause to drag the tip across the paper. At first, the quill only cut into the parchment, but then a shaky, black line followed his movements. He dragged it up, down, and around into the shape of an oval; dipped the tip once more to draw more ink; and then finished the details of the buttons and the cable.

"I think I had a toy like this once," Takeru said. ''A yo-yo."

Kiku shook her head. "A computer mouse, right?"

He mentally cursed himself—Kiku hadn't grown up in technophobic isolation, just Takeru. But the drawing still struck them both by surprise as they gazed at the page.

"One of your children, Lightning, had this."

"How do you know?" Takeru asked at once, already on the defensive.

He didn't need to lie this time. "Ai told me."

Kiku clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth. "Is that where he always is? Probably where he is right now too."

A dark pit formed in his belly, and he held his tongue as Kiku and Takeru exchanged glances. In the end, Kiku pushed the paper back towards him.

"Lightning wasn't carrying that with him when he returned to us. Or at least, I don't think so ..."

Takeru nodded, eyes never leaving the paper. "Miyu said he had something in his hands though ... think she threw it in the garden when she saw it."

Hair-pulling felt realistic at this time. All this time Miyu had known something too? She hadn't spoken once about what she'd found on the beach.

"Do you know this for a fact?" Ryouken asked.

Takeru huffed, barriers sliding back like impenetrable shields. "You'd have to ask her—but she's busy."

"I'll take you to her," Kiku said, rising once more from her seat. Her gaze shifted to Hal, who since his meager words spoken, hadn't done more than raise his head. "She might want to see you too, Hal."

A murmur of agreement bounced from wall to wall of the cosy tavern. Chairs screeched on their legs as they stood and headed to the door. Each time they entered or exited the cafe, Yuusaku felt a new wave of nostalgia wash over him. This time, he spotted the door to the patio. Had it only been hours before that he was out there with Takeru?

Ryouken wrapped an arm around his shoulder, tugging him close, and Yuusaku leaned into the embrace. Outside, the village felt more like a ghost town than a habitable village, and Miyu's quiet, dark cottage only made the similarities more familiar. The candlelights had dimmed, and in some areas been wicked away. What once resembled a beautiful indoor planetarium looked like an untamed jungle. Yuusaku had to remind himself it had only been hours since they left on the ship and not days before when Miyu's cosy place had brimmed with verdant vibrance.

Kiku slipped through the doorway, leading them up into the attic. Miyu had tucked herself between the two beds. Exhaustion had caught her in its clutches. Her head hung like toy doll in front of her, shoulders bowed. Her hair draped in front of her face like a thick, dull veil. Kiku rubbed her shoulder to rouse her, yet Miyu took a moment longer to come to her senses and brush the locks from her eyes.

"I'm sure you could fit another bed up here," Kiku said. She took Miyu by the arms and set her on the corner of Lightning's bed. After having seen the boy alive and well, Yuusaku hardly recognised him. He'd lost visible weight, and his already pale features were translucent: thin, unwashed hair; skin clinging to bones and veins. Earth looked no better, and Yuusaku remembered the cheery, jubilant face well.

He hadn't seen Miyu in the simulation, but she looked wearier each time he saw her. Kiku removed her jacket and tucked it around Miyu's shoulders, cinching it under her chin. Miyu yawned, rubbing at her doll-like eyes.

"I'm sure you could get some rest too."

As softly as a mother would stroke her own child, Miyu brushed Earth's hair back from his sullen face. "No matter how much they eat or drink, they won't wake up ..." Her words flittered away as Miyu lifted her head a bit higher; drapes of brown hair slid off her cheeks. Sparks alighted in her eyes—the same sparks he'd seen in Kiku and Hal as once more waves of nostalgia washed over them.

"H-how ..."

"A long story for another time," Kiku said, petting Miyu with the same tender touches Miyu herself was using to stroke Earth. "But something happened. Something ..." She turned to them with pleading eyes.

"Mistakes with technology," Yuusaku said, and Miyu leaned closer to Earth, spreading her wings in much the way a mother would protect her babies. She had fire to her too—and much like Takeru, she saw them as strangers responsible for what had happened.

Ryouken crossed his arms over his chest, unfazed by her tense posture. "We're looking for something one of your children had. A computer mouse."

They didn't need to draw it for her. Miyu drew back like she'd been stung, reaching first for Earth and then Lightning.

Kiku drew her hands into Miyu's thick locks. A soft hum lulled through the room, and he couldn't tell whether it was from Kiku or Miyu. He'd never seen them together other than the brief times all the adults had been on the beach, and in fact, he'd never seen them in the simulation either. But it was clear they had known each other for many years. Kiku seemed to know just what to do to soothe Miyu: stroking her hair, pressing her cheek to her breastbone.

"After you found Lightning with it ..."

"I ..." A sob caught in her throat, but her eyes were dry. The fires hadn't burnt out; hadn't even fizzled away. "I tried to throw it away, but Ai, he was there too, and I didn't want him to touch it either. I knew he couldn't be hurt by it, but still, I didn't want him to be near it. So I brought it back with me. It's ..." She pointed to a small box at the foot of Lightning's bed. Kiku slipped to the side and popped open the sturdy metal locks and lifted the solid, wooden lid. Inside were various knitted blankets and handmade quilts, likely Miyu's handiwork. There were dresses and other cloth items folded together in piles; vaguely, he remembered seeing dresses of the same pattern in the old photographs. 

Kiku pulled away several folded sheets to reveal the dirty mouse. It didn't even resemble a mouse—missing a key, black and grey, scratched beyond repair. It had been damaged back in the simulation; here it has been destroyed beyond repair.

"What use do you have ...?"

"Computer stuff," Kiku said in a hushed voice, the sort of tone one might use to speak ill of someone else or share a dark secret from the town. According to Kiku, that would have been necessary; but after what he had seen both in the simulation and here, a ratty mouse and an old computer were the least of his concerns.

When Kiku didn't reach for the mouse, Yuusaku plucked it up by its cord. The USB drive was intact ... ish. It was still in one piece which seemed like a miracle when he thought of Lightning swinging it round like a lasso or dragging it up and down the beach. But he'd seen old hardware in better shape than this. How were they meant to plug this into the computer in the shack? Lightning had plugged in a  _ usable  _ mouse, a  _ still-functioning _ mouse. This was a piece of chipped plastic on a chewed-up cable.

"Don't show that to Takeru, all right?" Miyu kept her hands on both of the children, as if her presence alone would ward away the evil she seemed to thin emanated from the mouse. "He doesn't like that sort of thing."

"We're aware." Ryouken couldn't have sounded more sarcastic if he'd tried.

"Thank you," Yuusaku said, bumping Ryouken on the shoulder. "We should go then to plug this in ..."

"Have you seen Ai?" Miyu asked, in a tone almost too friendly and well-meaning. Yuusaku let his mouth hang open. The first words that came to mind were to feign stupidity and ask, "Who's Ai?" But even here he would have seen the children for several days and come to know their names—and Miyu would find him suspicious if he at least didn't recognise the ever-chatty Ai.

So he deferred to his next question: "Has he been missing?"

"Since this morning. None of the other children have seen him round."

Ryouken took him by the shoulder and pulled him towards the door.. Hal followed without a beckon or call. At the top of the stairs, Ryouken gave them a quick salute. "We'll search for him in the forest."

If Kiku or Miyu had thanked them, Yuusaku never heard them. Ryouken closed the door, hurried them down the stairs, and had both him and Hal into the forest before he could think of anything to say.

"Somehow I feel like we didn't learn as much as we should have."

Ryouken ducked underneath a tall branch, guiding him along with both hands on his hips. The steady weight helped Yuusaku move, but whenever Ryouken touched him, his body jumped a degree or two, and he was already sweating buckets from the confrontation with Miyu. Ryouken's flirty gestures weren't helping any, especially when his hands lingered either at his hip bones, fingers hovering over the top of his jeans, or at his backside where on occasion he felt fingers squeeze.

Fortunately, Hal was in front of them both, with his eyes focused on the thick green canopies surrounding them. He supposed as an AI, Hal hadn't been outside much. This must have been his first time wandering around the village.

"As an AI ..." he ventured.

Hal cut in before he rambled. "I could only travel where there were wires."

"Like in the tunnel?"

"And down by the beach. My brother build a machine so I could see the beach." Hal paused, slowing his steps. "There was a little girl down there who looked like Miyu and who saw me one day."

"Did you take her because she saw you?" Ryouken asked.

Hal bristled at the accusation. "I was only testing on them ..."

"What specifically did you do to those two boys?"

Hal's shoulders dipped forward. "They don't ... have their free will. They're alive, but like computers, they'll only respond if you give them a command."

Yuusaku prepared himself to ask just what  _ that  _ meant, when he realised that Hal's words only made sense with what Miyu had shared. Earth and Lightning hadn't been doing anything but eating and sleeping. They were responding only to what Miyu commanded them to do: rest and eat. Likely if she'd told them to run across the beach, they would have responded. Tiredly. Possibly even hurting themselves in the process. But they were without free will—without the ability to make choices for themselves.

His stomach cramped beneath Ryouken's hand, now tenderly massaging his abdomen. Any other time, he would have chastised Ryouken for fooling around. But this was keeping his mind occupied and his mouth quiet. He loved Ryouken dearly, but he had a bull-headed habit of making enemies of friends and having one plan—his plan—and refusing to compromise.

"I only took their free will though, not that boy’s back at the ship."

"And what did you do with their free will?" Yuusaku asked. "You speak of it as if it's tangible."

"I gave it to my brother."

Ryouken's hand stilled at his hip. "Like some sort of medicine?"

"No, I taught it to him ... I ..." Hal opened and closed his hands, steps becoming more fervent. He was marching through the forest, past ferns and bushes and branches that could knock him off his feet. And yet not a single thought fazed him. "If he's an AI, he can learn. I taught him how to have free will. I gave him what gives humans free will."

Yuusaku scratched at his head. "And that required you to take it from those kids, as opposed to observation?"

Hal nodded, shoulders still stiff.

"Can you put it back?"

"If I wake up my brother, maybe ..."

"Is that what the computer back there is for? Another file for you?"

For the first time that the had been together, Hal looked him in the eyes. Yuusaku felt as if he were staring into the eyes of an ancient being, one with knowledge far beyond his own. In a way, Hal seemed like a god. A small, albeit mighty, god. Whether he was AI or human or something else entirely, his being seemed beyond comprehension—and looking at him felt like he was he gazing deep into an endless pool.

"No, that's my brother."

He was certain he hadn't heard him correctly. "Your ..."

"Brother," Hal said again.

"But what about that ship?" Ryouken asked. "That's—"

"Mine." Hal waited for either of them to speak up, but Yuusaku was lost for words.

"Mine." Hal patted his chest. "If we are both AIs, we belong in devices. Surely you two from the big city know that. But we cannot connect the computer to the ship—it is on land and the ship is at sea, and the technology we have up here cannot send us from one network to the other. So if you were to say that I am the ship—its body, its captain, its creator—then my brother, Bohman, is the computer in the woods."

Sighing, Hal spun back around on his heel, for a brief second looking like the little blond boy in the photograph. Like a child wandering through the woods just as the others had. But then he spoke again in a soft voice.

"My brother and I exist in different networks. We walk on different wires. If we are to become human and no longer AIs, he cannot exist in that computer."

By the mournful tone, it seemed cruel to cut back to the fact that Earth and Lightning's free wills were trapped in that computer too. But Hal noticed too and drew in a shaky breath.

"I'll wake up my brother first."

"You'll bring those kids' consciousnesses back," Ryouken said. "Then we'll figure out what's wrong with your brother."

Hal pulled his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. "I can't fix them unless I get to my brother first."

"And you'll put their free will back. It doesn't belong to your nor brother nor anyone else." Ryouken dropped his hands from Yuusaku's hips. "Got it?"

"... got it," Hal said after a moment.

Like the unfurling pages of a storybook, the trees cleared a small opening around the shack. Yuusaku had to pinch himself to remember that not much time had passed since he was here—but he remembered Lightning and the mouse, and he, Ryouken, Spectre, and Ai hiding in the trees and waiting for Bohman to come by. He almost expected one of the children pop round the corner and startle them all. It wouldn't have been the strangest occurrence to happen. But they were alone, standing in front of an old, wooden door.

Ryouken pushed it open and marched in first. Yuusaku motioned for Hal to follow behind, and the three of them slipped into the dim room. His eyes searched every nook and cranny for any minute change, but it was the same empty room with the old, boxy computer without even a keyboard or mouse, seated on a chipped table. The same damn cobwebs were probably underneath it too.

Hal approached the computer the way one might approach an untamed beast. He dusted off the mouse the best he could, yet the dirt and scratches still remained aplenty. Yuusaku found himself holding his breath as Hal slipped the USB drive into the side of the computer screen.

And promptly released it when the monitor glowed with the words,  _ Driver installed. _

Just like they had accessed the hard drive for removing the helmets, Hal brought up a command box and began typing in lines of code: input commands for the computer to read. Yuusaku had tinkered with computers before, and between him, Ryouken, and Kusanagi no error seemed unsolvable—but he had to admit, Hal typed with practiced ease and knew commands like the back of his hand. It took him several minutes longer to write out the chain of commands, but when he was complete, he spun round to address them.

"There's an extra step to this."

"What is it?" Ryouken asked, not even missing a beat.

Hal rubbed his fingers over the dirty mouse buttons, dropping his gaze low. "I didn't just take their free will and put it in my brother ... it's locked away. In the computer."

Yuusaku peered over Hal's shoulder to the series of coding. "You put it in a virtual world?"

"Sort of ..."

"You based it off of SOL Technologies' work on Link Vrains."

Hal jumped. "H-how do you know about SOL?"

"We come from Den City," Yuusaku said. "It's the largest company in the city and an international name in the dueling community. Your projects came out at the same time as Zaizen's and Kougami's works."

"Based on their research, yes."

Yuusaku drew a breath in through his nose. "Then can you take us into that network?"

Hal shook his head once, and then paused. He pointed to Ryouken's duel disk, peeking out from his trouser pocket. "That would work."

Dutifully, Ryouken handed it over.

Hal flipped it from hand to hand, then yanked out the tethering cable used when the WiFi was being dodgy. He plugged it into the computer.

"Oh." Hal tapped the duel disk's holographic screen. "No AI ..."

"Never trust AIs," Ryouken said.

Yuusaku elbowed him in the side.

"... when they're just doing your lazy work for you."

A small smile flickered over Hal's face, making his normally white cheeks glow amber. He clicked the final buttons on the duel disk until it had loaded and then set it down on the table, projector facing the three of them.

"This sort of technology, it was only just in its planning stages when I was around."

He couldn't imagine a world without technology, a world without anonymous virtual dueling or duel disks with holographic capabilities. He could give up AIs, possibly even some of the tiresome social media that sucked the last of his socialising energy from him. But as nice as it had been to leave Den City behind and spend a weekend with Ryouken, he was ready to return to a world where wires weren't the bane of their existences.

Hal rubbed his hands together. "So how do we ..."

With a snap of his fingers and a twist of his wrist, Ryouken called out, "Duel disk, activate." Bright colours popped across Yuusaku's vision. He felt something reach out to him, a ghost of wind sweeping through his hair and across his skin.

For the first time in nearly a week, he was logging back into the virtual world.


	14. Chapter 14

Back home, logging into Link Vrains was as easy as flicking on a light switch and as painless as walking through a door. His eyes had long grown accustomed to the mild flashing lights, and if he closed them, he wouldn't even see colours flickering across his eyelids. There was no breeze, no sign that anything was happening. But logging into Hal's network was akin to riding in a spaceship for the first time, or so he imagined the sensation might be like. His mind and body were being pushed into a tube first. A tiny, narrow tube that heightened his claustrophobia even more so than the tunnel beneath the other shack had. Then he felt like he was being propelled by wind currents rocketing him through the tunnel and popping him out in the middle of nowhere.

He was falling. Tumbling. Possibly even crashing on wherever the ground was, but he fell for what felt like both seconds and hours. Somehow, he still landed on his feet. His stomach rose into his throat and he leaned forward and coughed, nose and throat burning. He refused to be sick, but nausea slammed against him. Then, once more, the wind swept it away. A gentle, tousling breeze brushed through his hair and across his brow. Gone was the nausea and discomfort. Gone was any disgusting, unfortunate feeling from that hellish trip. Yuusaku rose and stretched his arms over his head. Before him stretched a glowing, golden land. He was standing not a foot away from the cliffside, and both above and below him were thick, pillowy clouds. Sun rays cast their warmth on the clouds and made the surfaces appeared flecked with gold shards. Yet here the sky was equally blue too, and it made the white clouds a gentle grey.

It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful sight Yuusaku had ever seen. The cloudy sky stretched forever with no other lands in sight. Behind him though was a stone palace. Sandstone bricks had been stacked to create a dome-shaped coliseum, as tall and as wide as the coliseums in Rome. He felt no larger than a flea standing before it. If he stretched his head, he could see only more and more bricks; the top was too tall for him to imagine. Ahead of them was no door with no opening.

He swung around, Ryouken's name on his tongue, only to find him standing right next to him. By Ryouken's tightly pressed lips and hunched over posture, he was likely fighting back the after-effects of being transported to Hal's network. Past Ryouken was Hal who materialised without even a glitch to his coding and stood before the stone coliseum.

"Did you make this?" Yuusaku asked.

Hal nodded. "Just this."

It wasn't as impressive as Link Vrains; Hal was correct there. But Link Vrains, while it had been the brainchild of Zaizen Akira, it was not solely his project. There had been hundreds of SOL Technologies employees who had spent years building it from the ground up. SOL had even had to subcontract to smaller computer software agencies to have the sheer power to create a virtual world so expansive. This place had been built by Hal and Hal alone. It was one island floating in a sea of clouds that somehow appeared more beautiful than most of the areas in Link Vrains. The clouds had been rendered with gold threaded into their misty bodies. The stones had  _ chips  _ in them, details that would have driven SOL developers up the wall. On the surface, Hal's network was but a chip in what Link Vrains was—and yet it had all been created by one person and for two people.

"Is this ... Bohman?"

"This is the network Bohman lives in," Hal said. "He wanted a place where he could see the sun rise and sink every morning."

"And the free will?" Ryouken rose to full height and let out a heavy breath. Yuusaku almost wondered if he had suffered a second concussion when he saw Ryouken slip back into his serious self—the leader, the strategist. If anyone knew how to exist within a network, it was the hacker who could have single-handedly disarmed the entire Link Vrains server.

Hal pointed to the stone building. "In there."

"Do you know your way to it?"

The 'yes,' should have come far sooner. From Hal's lips, it didn't even sound like a 'maybe.'

Ryouken growled under his breath. "You built this server—”

"But my brother is the one who manages it. He would have put the free will somewhere safe."

"And where would that be?"

Hal stared down at feet. "At the bottom of the dungeon, I bet."

He took Ryouken by the hand and massaged his palm. Yuusaku turned to Hal and asked, "How do you get in?"

Brightening, Hal beckoned then forward. "I at least know the way into here."

They scouted the side of the coliseum, trekking through warm, grainy sand that made each of his steps triple the effort it should have been. Yuusaku counted it a small blessing they didn't have to worry about any enemies shooting at them from the top of the coliseum, or even dangers hidden within the sand. Hal marched at the front of the pack, and Ryouken and Yuusaku followed behind him.

As Hal had said, there was a door leading into the dungeon. Like the top of the coliseum, Yuusaku couldn't see the top of the door either—just the stairs leading up to the palace. He hadn't realised that the building had  _ stairs. _

"We ... climb?" he asked in a shred of a voice.

Hal skipped up the first step, then the second, all with the boundless energy of a child.

By the time Yuusaku made it to the top of the stairs, he felt like he'd aged a century or two. It took all his remaining energy not to keel backwards and tumble down every step he had just climbed. He was thankful for Ryouken's steadying hand against the small of his back; Yuusaku's own hand was on Ryouken's upper arm, and somehow the grip stabilised them both. Breathless, he and Ryouken shared a pained grimace.

"So ..." Ryouken heaved in a scratchy breath. "There's no teleportation in your network?"

"It's not like I'm always going up these stairs. I haven't been here in forever ..." Hal swung back around and began walking down the hallway. Heavy stone walls lined the path until, once more, they arrived at another set of large metal doors. These too were open, and through them he could see the interior of the coliseum ... that turned out not to be a coliseum at all, but an odd, carpeted palace. The Roman architecture remained in bits and pieces—columns along the walls, tapestries and draperies detailing heroic feats of strength, and an open-air concept that somehow  _ wasn't  _ open-air; Yuusaku could see the roof above his head like a starless nighttime sky. The interior reminded him of a Sims' home—or rather, a Sims home made by someone with minimal interior decorating skills. Even he knew not to clash accessories.

Despite the large size of the coliseum, or whatever this building was, there didn't seem to be many rooms. The large entryway seemed like the  _ only  _ room at all, and at the end of it stood a tall, golden throne. There were stairs leading up to it too. Yuusaku's legs groaned in preparation for another climb. However, Hal turned to the side, appearing to go  _ behind  _ the throne. There was a small door built into the wall, and through that room was an odd sort of chamber. There were no decorations. No accents, Roman or otherwise. The only purpose the room seemed to serve was holding a glowing treasure chest.

Just as Yuusaku stepped into the room, the floor shook. He leapt back into Ryouken and the two of them tumbled back through the doorway and onto the floor.

Hal turned around, eyebrows furrowed. "So there are traps in here ..."

"And how come you didn't trigger them?" Ryouken asked.

Hal shrugged. "Maybe I didn't step on the right spot."

Awfully sensitive triggers, if Yuusaku was honest, but he kept his lips pursed.

Ryouken choked out a dry laugh. "Really—"

"If you're not careful, you'll die." Hal crossed his arms over his chest. Gone was any joking. "This is a simulation, but our bodies are connected."

It was a fact he knew well. In Link Vrains, if you injured yourself you could hurt your mind. Injuries were as simple as headaches to severe concussions or comas. The risks of virtual dueling were no joking matter either, and Yuusaku was familiar with the dangers within Link Vrains. But he'd never thought these same dangers could occur in any network, much less Hal's private server.

It made sense. He'd just never wanted to think about it.

"But you can't die."

Hal turned to Ryouken. "I'm already dead."

Yuusaku stroked Ryouken's arm. This was a sensitive topic for the both of them, and they'd only aggravate one another by bickering.

Fortunately, there were more pressing matters to attend. Hal stepped back to the doorway and surveyed the room. Yuusaku couldn't seen much either. The room was empty; if the traps were hidden, what were the triggers? And what could happen if they hit them too? The floor had only shook that time, but next time would it disappear? Shock them?

The walls seemed even closer.

"Follow me," Hal said.

Ryouken crossed his arms over his chest. "How come?"

"Because as an AI, I can see the network here. This is my brother's space, but it's not like he speaks a foreign language. And I can see ..." Hal knelt down and traced a finger across the floor. "I can see where he's pointing."

Yuusaku kept one hand round Ryouken's wrist, so that if either of them did fall, they'd be able to catch one another. But Hal seemed to have found a way through the room. They zig-zagged in the strangest pattern that seemed to take them onto every spot in the floor and loop back more than once, yet with the risk of dying in the virtual world, they didn't place even a toe out of line.

"In Den City ..." Hal kept his head low, and yet his voice continued to echo. "Are there AIs?"

"Plenty," Yuusaku said, at the time as Ryouken growled, "Unfortunately."

He saw Hal's shoulders bounce a bit. "And what do they do?"

Everything. The task of naming every individual duty of an AI in Den City would have taken him the full day or longer. But Hal had turned his head slightly and Yuusaku could see the strong clench of his jaw. His shoulders weren't shaking from joy, but from fear. Worry.

"They help round the city," Yuusaku said at last.

One of Hal's orange eyes stared back at him. "Are they free will AIs?"

Yuusaku didn't have the heart to tell him no.

Hal spun back around, continuing the walk through the room. The further they headed towards the back of the room, the more Yuusaku realised this place was much, much longer than he'd originally thought. The golden treasure chest never grew closer, as if it were just a mirage far ahead of them and forever out of reach.

"Can AIs have free will?"

"It's not really something anyone wants," Ryouken said. But quick as lightning, he added, "But it's possible. Link Vrains has the environment for a free-thinking  _ anything— _ Zaizen's coding is too shitty to make anything clear and definitive."

It got Hal laughing behind his hand.

"But if that were to happen." Ryouken tucked his hands into his pockets. "The AIs would need to  _ learn  _ free will, not rip it from someone else like they're missing a limb."

"Could AIs exist in Link Vrains?"

Yuusaku nodded his head, and when only silence stretched through the room, he answered. "Yes."

Ahead of him, Hal skipped. Yuusaku saw him spring and bounce like he'd been renewed with energy, but he didn't say a word. Didn't even turn around. Yuusaku could feel the question in the air.

"You can't live in a network up here," he said, sounding out the words one syllable at a time. "You can't put big towers and wires up here, not where there are people who aren't familiar with it. Kiku and Miyu might be, but even they seem wary of it. But if we could ... program you, you could come to Link Vrains."

"To Den City?" Hal's voice was little more than a whisper.

"To Link Vrains," Ryouken said. "Robots exist in Den City, but AIs? That's a different matter entirely."

"The virtual world is large. Constantly being updated. Constantly full of surprises. And you and Bohman could both be there."

Hal still hadn't turned around, but he was itching too, Yuusaku could see by his twitchy shoulders and hurried steps. They were walking faster down the path, snaking from side to side, back and forth. He wasn't even sure if Hal knew where they were going, but they were walking.

"Would we be free?" Hal asked.

"You two would live on your own in there. SOL wouldn't bother you; they don't know half the mayhem that happens on their servers. The network is large enough too, and expanding to cover the whole world. You would just be two people in a sea of duelists, of connected players."

"A sea of humans," Hal murmured under his breath.

They pulled to a halt in front of the treasure chest. With all the mismatched furniture, a pirate-style treasure chest shouldn't have surprised him. Hal lifted open the lid and pulled out several ball-shaped ... things. He wasn't sure what they were. Hal took them in his arms—three in total—and held them out for Yuusaku to take.

"This is ..."

"Their free will."

Ryouken took one and rolled it between his nimble fingers. "Compact. Didn't know free will came in tangible form."

"We're in a network; anything is possible." Hal passed them the other two balls and then folded his hands together.

Yuusaku glanced round the room. "That's ... it?"

"Did you expect worse?"

He truly did.

"This isn't some dangerous dungeon. This is just where Bohman lives." Hal closed the lid to the treasure chest. His fingers lingered on the lid, as if he might try to open it once more and see what else was inside. But they had the children's free will in their hands. Yuusaku could feel an odd, albeit comforting warmth coming from the glass spheres. They couldn't be alive, but something in them felt lively, and he half-expected the balls to leap out of his hands and roll down the hallways.

Hal clicked the locks closed, each one echoing through the empty room. Dark shadows had begun to appear around his eyes.

Yuusaku tucked the spheres into one of his pockets and crouched down. Hal seemed even smaller than the other children, and his movements were jerky like he was trying to find something to do to fill up the time. Yuusaku had done the same actions when he was a child and unsure what to do next. He still found himself hesitating as he crouched before Hal.

"Would you like to go to Link Vrains, Hal?"

"With my brother?"

From behind his back Hal revealed another sphere. While the ones Hal had given them were glass-like and glossy, this sphere seemed plastic and cloudy. The colours were dull and the lustre had faded from the swirling substance within. Yet Hal held it between his cupped hands with delicacy, the way one might hold their most precious belonging.

"I can't leave him."

Yuusaku motioned for Ryouken to pass his duel disk—even while using it, the duel disk had remained with them. He opened up the interface and dialed Kusanagi's number. After a soft trill, he heard Kusanagi pick up.

"Yuusaku?"

"I'm sending you a file to upload into Link Vrains. Permanently."

Kusanagi hummed and hawed. His gaze drifted to Hal and the plastic ball in his hands.

"On it," Kusanagi said. "Send it over and I'll have it uploaded with an hour." He smiled as he caught sight of Ryouken. "SOL's been too busy with patchwork to even notice what  _ I've  _ added to their servers."

"Glad to know they think they need a vacation too," Ryouken muttered under his breath.

Yuusaku clicked the call closed with a quick farewell and turned back to Hal. He'd never downloaded a person. Never created a file of their entire being and uploaded them into Link Vrains. But it was possible. Ryouken's father had done it, though perhaps that wasn't the best example. There were rumours that some duelists hadn't returned to the real world in years, living in cryo-sleep and continuing their days in Link Vrains. This would be no different.

He lifted the duel disk and pointed it at Hal.

"What will happen ...?" Hal asked.

"You'll become a file to be uploaded into Link Vrains. Don't worry, SOL Technologies won't bother you; they always have enough on their plate. And then ... you'll be there."

Hal gripped the plastic sphere. "Will my brother ...?"

"He'll be there too."

"With free will?"

Yuusaku shrugged. "The difference between AI and human isn't so different, if you ask me. I'm sure you and your brother will figure it out in the virtual world."

"You'll be smarter AIs than SOL's glitchy androids," Ryouken added. "If anything, you'll probably seem more human than anything or anyone else."

Hal glowed at the praise.

Yuusaku pointed the duel disk once more and readied the systems. Duel disks had always had a function to 'download'—mainly used to bring harmless objects into Link Vrains. But Ryouken's device had been configured, and with one zap of its beam, Hal disappeared in a pop of colours. He waited for some great unveil to happened, but instead, a little dialogue box appeared in front of him.

_ What would you like to name this file? _

HAL_and_BOHMAN

It only seemed fitting. No projects. No results. No tests.

He sent the file off to Kusanagi with a quick message to add Hal and Bohman to an area of Link Vrains where they wouldn't be bombarded with everything new. Though he suspected the two of them would come to love the vibrant virtual beauty of Link Vrains, after living out in this tech-dry zone, it would take some getting used to to be among technology once more. But he was certain they would like it. Link Vrains was, above all, a place you could call your own. A world you could manipulate at your fingertips. A free network.

Ryouken turned him around by his shoulders, movements slow and steady. Yuusaku leaned into the embrace, rubbing his cheek up against Ryouken's jaw. He pulled back when he felt stiff hair rather than soft, white locks. Ryouken's attire had changed. Gone were his holiday clothes, replaced by his white suit and high, stiff collar. His hair spiked up in great grey and white strands that stood on point. Yuusaku rubbed the tip of one between his fingers. His other hand trail up Ryouken's chest to his jaw and fondled with small golden bullet hanging from his ear.

"Have you missed Link Vrains a bit too much?" Yuusaku asked, lips pressed to Ryouken's collarbone.

Ryouken grumbled into his hair.

"Weren't we supposed to get away from technology?" Yuusaku pressed a chaste kiss to Ryouken's neck. Paused. Then leaned up and kissed him on the lips with the passion of the sea and the gentleness of the stars.

They were alone. Free.

Ryouken kissed him back.

Somewhere among the shuffling, among the wet kisses and grabby hands, he hit a wall. Found himself outside. Found the world around him glowing a myriad of colours. He couldn't tell what network he was in, only that Ryouken was attached to him for every step of the way, kissing him, touching him, holding him so close that Yuusaku could feel his breaths. When they, at last, broke away, Yuusaku didn't recognise the starry sky he was lying under. There were no stars in the village's sky nor in its waters, and yet he couldn't be anywhere else but the forests beyond the shore, lying out in the grove by the shack. The grassy clearing left an opening just wide enough for him and Ryouken to see the clear sky sprinkled with white stars.

Somehow, it was warm too. Only his hand was touching Ryouken's hand; in all their tousling, they'd probably touched every area of each other's bodies, but when they broke apart, his hand still found Ryouken's hand and they tumbled onto the soft grass. The cool nighttime arm blew across his cheeks and nose—and yet he was as warm as a cozy fire, as if he were tucked against Ryouken's side all this time.

"Did you log us out?" Ryouken asked.

Yuusaku laughed. "I think we got ourselves kicked out."

"Only PG in the servers." Ryouken tucked his other hand behind his head and laughed outright. "I didn't even think we'd make it out."

Yuusaku curled towards Ryouken, cupping his face with his hand. "You thought ..."

"There was a trap? Hm." Ryouken turned towards him. Bits of starlight glowed off his white hair, no longer still but soft and framing his sharp face. "I didn't think it would all work out."

"Did ... it?"

Ryouken's hand came down on his head with just enough force for Yuusaku to choke out an 'oof.'

"I'm supposed to be the pessimistic one here. You're the hero." Ryouken drew his hand to Yuusaku's cheek, twirling it round a few spare strands of his bangs that had come loose. Each touch was a spark on his skin. "You found that boy a home. You found both of them a home."

Yuusaku reached into his pocket. The glass spheres weren't there. Instead, there were three wires, odd sorts of junk that he didn't remember sticking in his pocket. He couldn't remember the children ever giving him such junk, but then again, after all the time skips and network changes, he hardly knew what he was supposed to remember  _ here. _

What he did remember was that Spectre was still on the ship with Ai.

He pushed himself off from the ground and took Ryouken's hand too. Prickly fern leaves and squelchy mud harbored his quick pace. As he broke through the last of the foliage, he caught sight of the beach, lone and barren. Out on the still water was the sun hanging just at the edge of the world—and before it, two small figures walking across the ocean. Yuusaku froze at the sight of them, but the smaller of the two figures ran faster, across the water, onto the beach.

In the blink of an eye, something small fell into his arms. Ai hit him with all the force of a boulder catapulting through the air, and he stumbled back.

"We made it back!" Ai crowed. "I dunno where you guys went, but I woke up just that guy around." He jabbed a finger at Spectre who gave an odd, pinched smile. Ai didn't remember any of his time stuck between servers, having left the simulation but not returned to the proper world. 

Spectre hadn't told him either too; he ruffled the kid's hair and added, "I suppose it's complete then?"

Ai glanced between the three of them. "What's complete?"

Ryouken nodded.

Yuusaku carefully removed Ai's hands from his jacket and stood the kid up on the sand. He felt like he ought to check Ai for injuries, but he seemed just as lively as he had been in the simulation, and before that in the original village. Not a blemish marred his face. Not a single worrisome thought was spat from his mouth. But he did remember the simulation, and that was a concern.

Yuusaku crouched down so that he was level with Ai. "Everyone's woken up."

"Because we saved them," Ai said, thumping his chest with one fist.

"But they don't necessarily know how that happened."

A head tilt. "We saved them, of course."

"But the how—"

Ai swung his arms from side to side. A tricksterish smile spread across his lips. "You don't want me to tell Takeru, do you? He's doesn't like you three, especially you." He pointed at Ryouken, and then curled his finger back as he began to chuckle with barely contained glee. "Don't you think if you saved everyone that you ought to tell the world you're heroes?"

As far as heroes went, their tracks records were full of crime or vigilante justice ... or crime disguised as vigilante justice. It was fortunate the village had no internet so that they could search just who they were; back in Den City, their online identities had long since been exposed.

Yuusaku sighed into his palm. "I'll tell them then."

Ai's mouth dropped open and he grabbed his arm. "Wait? Who says you get to tell him first? I want to tell everyone we saved the day thanks to my quick thinking. You can't take the credit for yourself!"

"And you can't either," Ryouken muttered under his breath. He swept forward, kicking dust behind his boots. Yuusaku headed after him, taking Ai by the hand else they lose one more child. He waited for Spectre to trot up ahead and walk in line with Ryouken, but Spectre hung behind, hands in his pockets. An air of expectation surrounded him, as if he were waiting for the exact moment to share his observation. Yuusaku hadn't a clue what Spectre could have on his mind; he was the greatest enigma he'd ever met, a man as open as a children's book yet as full of secrets as a riddled tome.

"Where'd that man go?" Spectre asked at last.

"Link Vrains."

"What's Link Vrains?" Ai asked, skipping next to them.

Spectre continued on. "And will you tell that to the villagers?"

"They'd want to know."

"What about the ship?" Spectre pointed out to the water. The great, metal ship still hid just below the surface level. Hanging off from the shore was its single limb, disappearing as it stretched out towards the middle of the ocean. Now that Hal and Bohman were safely in Link Vrains, there was no use for the ship. The technology out here was sparse, and the villagers would get no joy from having some hunking tech-junk in their waters. But Yuusaku couldn't bring himself to say to dispose of the ship. It belonged to Hal and Bohman. Hal had even said it  _ was  _ him, just as the computer was Bohman.

"I'm not saying you have to make a choice," Spectre said, "but those villagers won't know what to do with it, and dare I say they'll be too afraid to even approach it."

"I'll ask them." He couldn't tear his eyes away from the metal ship.

As soon as they stepped foot into the village, he could feel the difference. The children were outside of Miyu's cottage for the first time in what felt like weeks—and all of them too, the adventurous, free-range children they were. Aqua and Earth were sitting on the benches by the library perusing heavy books. Flame lie down on the grass in a warm, sunny patch. Further down the trail he saw Lightning wandering with a small journal in his hands, and trailing not a step behind him was Windy.

Ai shot forward like a bullet, heading right for Aqua and Earth. They lifted their heads, no doubt when they heard the elephant-sounding footsteps. Aqua nearly dropped her book in surprise.

"A—"

"Ai!" Earth's voice squeaked and pitched, and he leapt off the bench and ran to embrace him. Just how Ai had embraced him, Ai embraced Earth by taking him down to the ground pro-wrestler-style and knocking the wind right out of Earth. He choked and coughed, still smiling all the while as Ai grabbed his cheeks and hands, anywhere he could. Yuusaku swore he could see tears in Ai's large eyes.

"You're alive!" he kept saying to Earth. "You're alive!"

Aqua slipped down from her seat. Her hands wrapped around Ai's neck, tugging him close to her chest. "And you—you're alive, Ai!"

"Where even were you?" Flame asked.

"How come you're alive?" Windy asked. He'd wandered away from Lightning, who remained several feet further than anyone else, surveying the situation the way a scientist might observe a specimen. Even freshly awakened from a coma, he looked too self-aware. Too mature. Yuusaku wondered if Lightning remembered any of the events of the simulation, but he dared not ask the child. A part of him didn't want to know the answer.

Ai laughed them all off, grabbing Windy and pinching his cheeks too. "You're awake too!"

"Of course I'm awake!" Windy said. "I wasn't even sleeping—"

"But you could have been!" Ai said. "What if something snuck into your bed and swept you away—"

Aqua squeezed him tighter, cutting off his words. "Enough of that.  _ You're  _ the one we've been worried about! You've been gone all day."

"I was out saving the world," Ai said.

The other children broke out in laughter. Silly musings of "Ai, be serious!" and "Don't tell me you still play make-believe games," came from child to child, all brushed off by Ai who only added to their playful bickering. As the children laughed through the next joke, Ai winked at him, Ryouken, and Spectre—the sort of knowing wink that he could only have learned from Spectre.

The bickering only broke apart when the cottage door swung open on squeaky hinges and out stepped Miyu, then Kiku, and then Takeru. They had all been in Miyu's place. For the first time since the vacation, Miyu looked properly rested. Her eyes were bright, albeit filled with tears, and she clutched a tea towel between her shaking hands. Next to her, Takeru held his chest as if he might have a heart attack then and there.

Kiku shot forward and scooped Ai up into her arms. "Where in all of the universe  _ were  _ you?"

Ai giggled and squirmed in her arms until she let him down. She kept hold of him though, as if he might slip from her fingers once more. Yet Ai remained still in front of her, very much alive and well.

"I went for a walk."

Kiku blinked. Choked. "You—"

"All this time—" Takeru groaned into his palm. Between his fingers, Yuusaku caught his stare and he forced a weak smile.

"Found him at the beach," Spectre said. "Alive and well."

Yuusaku felt a groan build in his lips. Fortunately, Takeru, Kiku, and Miyu were all too busy hugging and coddling Ai to even process what Spectre had said. To them, all that mattered was their child was home, safe, and well. And even more fortunately, Spectre didn't repeat himself as he often did when he wanted to drive a particular point home. He remained with his arms behind him, waiting until Takeru broke away. He coughed awkwardly.

"Thank you." A head dip, low and steady. "For everything."

Kiku rose from snuggling Ai into her shoulder. "You must be tired—you've been gone all night."

Yuusaku blinked. Had they? He turned to Spectre who only shrugged a tired shoulder.

"Come," Miyu said. "We'll all take a well-deserved rest."

Takeru looked as if he might speak up, but he held his tongue and fell in line with the group as they headed into the cafe. Yuusaku wanted to say something too. He picked at his nails as they headed into the cafe. Kiku and Takeru set about pushing several tables together to make space for everyone, children and adults. The children scrambled onto their seats before the table had even been properly set, but Kiku only shook her head and laugh, returning with heavy mugs of hot, sweet cider for them all. She pressed them to take a glass too, but they shook their heads and accepted the coffee and tea Takeru returned with. Though the cafe must have been closed the day before, and likely Takeru and Kiku were staying with Miyu for the night, they managed to fill the table with all manner of baked sweets and rolls, all new flavours for Yuusaku to sample. Now that he was seated, he realised just how hungry he was.

But there was something he had to do first.

"Takeru. Can I speak to you outside?"

Takeru lowered his glass and set it on the table with a dull thunk. He pushed up from the table and slid past both Kiku and Miyu who were stretched over passing rolls and jams to each of the children. Kiku murmured something to him, too quiet for Yuusaku to hear, but Takeru only pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

Under the table, Yuusaku squeezed Ryouken's hand.

He knew where they ought to go, but seeing as how he and this Takeru had never had a private conversation, he had to wait for Takeru to lead him out to the balcony. Somehow the sun had disappeared from the sky and the stars had blossomed like midnight flowers, all in the span of what felt like five minutes. Yet it was a familiar sight to that other starry night where he and Takeru ripped their hearts and spoke to each other as equals. As mere humans doing anything in their power to protect those they love and care about. Now it was time to speak to Takeru once more.

He leaned against the deck's railing, letting the cool breeze rustle over his bare hands. Takeru stood next to him, nursing his saccharine-sweet cup of cider. Yuusaku could smell the sugar from where he was and see the hot steam curling from the rim.

"I wanted to—"

"Thank you," Takeru said. "For finding him. For returning Hal."

Yuusaku wished he'd remembered his own cup; it would have given his hands something to hold and his gaze a stationary target to fall upon. Somehow it felt sillier staring at his empty hands.

"Takeru," he said, "Hal's ship and Bohman's computer are still out there. There's a transmitter—a device that can send a signal, if you know what that means—in the other shack. Now that Hal and Bohman have been returned—"

"Where did they go?" Takeru asked.

"An alternate world."

"He's dead, isn't he? ... wasn't he?"

He wasn't sure how to answer that question. In truth, Hal's physical body was gone. It had been gone for many years. But if a human being could somehow download their conscience, their soul, into a computer and exist in Link Vrains, he had no right to presume them dead. But Takeru was more simple-minded. He thought about humans as creatures of flesh and blood.

"Yes," Yuusaku said. "He was."

Takeru took another sip from his drink. "How did he come here then?"

"A fluke," Yuusaku said. Paused. "There was an accident when we were on the ship. I can't fully explain it, but ... when we came back, Hal was corporeal ... and Bohman and Ai weren't."

The clench of teeth and jaws was  _ audible. _

"That's why he thinks he was on the beach. I promise you, Takeru—nothing happened to him."

"Do you know?"

Yuusaku blinked.

Takeru turned to him, all the fire bright in his eyes. "Do you know for sure he is OK?"

He didn't hesitate, not even for a second. "I do."

A long silence passed between them. Takeru clenched and unclenched his hands round the cup; looked from Yuusaku to the floor to the darkness beyond the patio. Through the walls Yuusaku could hear the children and adults talking raucously. If Kiku or Miyu had any concerns, they were keeping quiet for the sake of the children. Or they trusted that Takeru would reserve it.

"How are the other children?" Yuusaku asked. "Lightning and Earth, in particular."

"It was like ..." Takeru stared down at his feet, shoulders slumped. He seemed so much smaller and younger, and his words took on a hollow note. "It was like they'd woken up from a good night's sleep. They opened their eyes and called to Miyu, asking her how long they'd slept for and if they knew where the other children were. They didn't know a thing about what happened, none at all." Takeru took a deep gulp from his mug. "I want to trust you, Yuusaku, that everything is all right, but if they don't remember anything and we don't know anything, how can we know for sure ..."

"Because what was out there wasn't trying to hurt you. Any of you."

Takeru only stared at him with the look of a wounded, cornered animal with the last of its courage clenched between its teeth.

"Hal and Bohman came up to the island with a plan to help one another. They were conducting tests and your village, unfortunately, just happened to be the spot. I bet, if Hal had known Kiku and Miyu were there, he would have left you alone. But he messed up."

Yuusaku drew in a deep breath through his nose. "And we messed up too. We brought foreign technology into your village at a time when you were already frightened. We were defensive to your defensiveness when you had right to doubt why we had showed up. Out here, you trust who you know. But Ryouken and I were ... bullheaded. We came out here for a vacation, not to bother you, but the mistake was still made."

Out of the corner of his eye, Takeru began to roll his shoulders back. Bit by bit, he hung himself back over the railings like a worn rag left out to dry. All the tension in his muscles gave out and he was left with no choice but to hold onto the railing.

Yuusaku leaned forward, matching his posture. "It was not our intention to cause this sort of trouble, but the fault still lies with us for not speaking with you sooner." There had to be more words to say. He felt callous leaving on such a melancholic note. But no sincerer apologies came to mind. No further explanations, not unless Takeru could ask him specifically what he wanted to know. But Takeru only stared out into the darkness, as if he hadn't heard Yuusaku at all.

"The day before you showed up, Lightning went missing and returned. Then Earth. Then nearly Aqua—we both saw her. I wish I could have trusted you back then ..."

"It was on us for not explaining ourselves."

"It's fine." Takeru pushed himself off the railings, holding himself up with one firm, tensed arm. His smile, however, had become a gentle touch to his face. Shaky, but sincere. "When you first came, I didn't know what to make of you. Kiku either. And though we hadn't met anyone else in far too long, our anxiousness didn't help either. Didn't make you feel comfortable. Didn't help you solve anything. All along, we just couldn't figure out what was happening. And now ..."

"It's up to you what you want to do with the ship. If you want it gone, we could ..."

"There's a story of a great metal ship, you know? A little boy walked across the water to find his lost treasure and was never seen again."

_ His will,  _ Yuusaku thoought.

"Maybe the reason that boy was never seen again ... was because that ship became his home."

Hal would have glowed to hear his ship be called a home.

"And I couldn't ever get rid of a home, even if it's made of wires. But ..." Takeru rubbed at his chin, and a thick crease appeared over his brow. "Is it safe ...? I can't just tell the children, 'Don't go into the big metal ship on the beach.' You've, uh, seen how much they explore this town."

"We'll do a final check of the ship to make sure there's nothing harmful. As you said, it's just wires."

"And the ... computer?" Takeru asked.

"I'll fix that too."

Takeru rubbed at his chin. "And the other one ..."

"The transmitter—"

"What does it do?"

Yuusaku blinked. "It sends internet—er, a network—to the computer, so that ... That you can call ..."

"You?" Takeru finished.

He nearly choked on his own breath.

"If that's all right, of course!" Takeru's arms pinwheeled through the air, and his words came out faster than his lips could move. It was a miracle the sounds even resembled Japanese. "But you see, the kids really did like you and would probably love to see you again, and we can't just ask you to take the train all the way up here, and well Kiku and Miyu have told me about telephones, and so I'm sure if we had just a simple telephone here there wouldn't be any trouble—" He broke off with a laugh, and for the first time since they'd properly met, not in a simulation or any other strange instance, he smiled without strain or stress. "If there's a way, I want to make it work. Just ... not something too big. Or complicated."

Yuusaku chuckled. "A telephone then, as basic and simple as they come."

"Just one button," Takeru said, holding up a finger for emphasis. "The 'call' button."

"I don't think that exists." Even the ancient technology from pre-VR days had phones with more than one button. Takeru was thinking of a children's phone. "But I'll find you something easy." The suggestion of teaching one of the village children was tempting, but after Takeru had just expressed to him his fear of the children touching anything new or foreign, he kept that idea in reserve. The fact that Takeru wanted to talk to him after all this madness was a miracle in its own right.

Just before the silence became too awkward, Takeru stretched his arms over his head and wandered back towards the doorway. "You'll catch a cold if you're out here dressed like that."

Takeru hardly had a point to prove when he was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, clashing colours and all. But Yuusaku followed him inside, grateful for the roar of the fire to keep them cosy and warm. Everyone was still gathered around the table, listening with varying degrees of interest as Ai and Windy recounted a particularly gruesome tale that they swore was the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. After the wild events of the week, Yuusaku almost believed him. He took his seat next Ryouken, giving his hand a quick squeeze under the table to let him know everything had gone well. Takeru pecked both Kiku and Miyu on the cheeks as he settled down at his own spot, and choked back a laugh as Windy exclaimed just how large the bear was they saw in the woods.

"I don't think we have many bears in this area, and certainly not during this time of year. Too cold." For emphasis, Miyu gave a shoulder-shaking shiver.

"I  _ promise you,"  _ Ai said, hanging himself over the table like a ragdoll. "It was bigger than you could ever believe."

"Then you ought to stay near the town," Kiku said with a decisive nod. "You can't become some creature's afternoon snack."

"Oh don't worry." Ai puffed up his chest. "I could take down a beast."

Kiku only laughed. "Well we'll have to keep an eye on it—all of us." Her last words were spoken to the three of them, and Yuusaku felt the weight of her stare as she asked them, "Are you staying in town long?"

He froze, hand falling to his wrist. In all their wild adventures here, he hadn't checked the date, not once. His duel disk was broken and at the bottom of the sea, and Ryouken's was carefully tucked into his pocket and would remain there for the duration of the vacation.

"Tomorrow," Ryouken said. "We go back to work the day after."

"I've got all the time in the world," Spectre said, cupping his hands behind his head. A contract worker.

Ryouken turned to Spectre. "I'll need your assistance next week. Do return in time."

"Of course, Revolver."

Across the table, Kiku, Miyu, and Takeru sat together in silence. There were no relieved sighs, no relaxed shoulders. If anything, they only looked tenser.

"Takeru and I spoke," Yuusaku said, "about what we'll do with the ship and computers. What we can do to help."

Miyu looked to be on the verge of a waterfall of tears. "But you've done so much for us ..."

Ryouken cut her off with a clearing of his throat. "It's the least we can do."

"More than enough is more like it," Kiku said. Her voice sounded froggy and thick, choked up with whatever feelings were running through her. Yuusaku didn't know. She should have been more upset with them. Angry. Happy they were leaving. But sorrow dripped from the wooden ceiling and doused their heads, and all their voices sounded a touch more distant and dreary. The fires had dimmed and the lanterns gone dark.

"How about I walk you back?" Kiku said. She linked arms with Miyu. All six children scrambled out of their seats and rushed to the door. Yuusaku and Ryouken followed her, but as Spectre stood, Takeru motioned to him.

"Can't be comfortable with three of you in that tiny room. Why don't you stay the night in our spare room? Or until you're ready to leave, that is. I think the bed is made."

With a smile, Spectre skipped off to the bedroom with Takeru. Yuusaku followed the adults and children out into the dark night. With only two lanterns, it should have been dark all around. But it was a crisp, bright night. Miyu said goodbye to them as she ushered the children off to the cottage. Kiku lead them down the little road to the inn. It had been so long since he and Ryouken had slept in that bed that all the empty houses along the block looked unfamiliar, and the road felt bumpier and stranger, as if not a single person had walked down the path. He wasn't sure where Kiku meant to stop—either at the front door or at their bedroom door—but she slowed as she stepped into the lobby. From behind the counter she retrieved a smaller lantern and she lit the white, waxy candle inside.

"Will you two be all right?"

Yuusaku nodded and accepted the lantern.

"And we'll see you tomorrow before you're off?"

"That's right." His voice was becoming choked too, and he cleared it softly behind a fist. Ryouken patted him on the shoulder.

"Well ..." Kiku rubbed her hands together as if she were a schoolgirl thanking her seniors. Yuusaku felt unqualified to be anyone's senior, much less one of the matrons of the village. He accepted the praise with another throat-clearing cough and a lack of eye-contact. Mature.

"Thank you for bringing the children back—all of them."

"We wouldn't have left without a single one."

"We'll say goodbye tomorrow?" It sounded like a question. Perhaps even a promise.

"We won't leave before then," Ryouken said.

Kiku bade them farewell one last time and then disappeared into the night. The lantern bobbed beside her as she headed back the cafe. Yuusaku waited until the light was but a speck in the nighttime air, and then he headed up the stairs and into the inn. It was far too quiet and cold. His breath made small, dragon-like puffs. His and Ryouken's room was even colder. Not a single speck of warmth. The room was musty too, as if they had been gone far longer than a day or an hour or however long it was. The story had twisted and turned in so many ways that he'd given up keeping track of what day of the week or even hour it was.

He used the candle to light the wood and paper inside the fire, and before long crisp flames burned up the chimney stack. It would be a while longer before fire chased the chill out of the room.

In the meantime, he and Ryouken would need to work together to stay warm. He slid under the covers, jaw clenched as each cold layer brushed against his skin. Ryouken wrapped his arms around his shoulders, and Yuusaku wound his legs round Ryouken's waist. It would take more than a crowbar to peel them apart. They were both freezing; he could see Ryouken's misty breath blowing across his cheeks. Feel the slight shiver of his chest. No matter how close he nestled, the initial chill stayed. Still, he never pulled away.

The entire walk to the inn, a million questions had sprung in his mind. A million more had appeared back when he was at the cafe, and before that on the patio with Takeru. He'd had  _ everything  _ to ask Ryouken, all on the tip of his tongue. Yet now that he was settled, and they were alone, not a single clear thought travelled from his mind to his mouth. It was hazy in between—a dense fog in his mind.

Gently, Ryouken pressed his lips to the crown of his head.

"One good night of sleep," he whispered.

His eyes rolled closed, then open, then closed once more.

"One good night," he said back, but he never knew if the words made it out of mind and past his lips.


	15. Chapter 15

"So." Ryouken had his legs stretched out and on the train seat in front of him, a rather odd position considering he was often tucked neatly together like a wrapped package. Ryouken did not  _ sprawl.  _ Did not spread himself out. Did not sit so casually. But he had his legs balanced on the seat in front of him and his lower body sliding out of the seat, looking like a slouching teenager instead of a composed businessman. Vacation seemed to have  _ fully  _ relaxed him.

Yuusaku had his own feet kicked up too, but his posture was already infamously terrible. He'd need a map of the stars just to count out how many times Kusanagi had warned him he'd hurt his back, or Ryouken had complained about how he'd give himself sore muscles and joints. It was strange not to have Ryouken composed at his side. Made them see a bit more eye to eye.

"Did you keep any souvenirs?"

Yuusaku chuckled and removed two wires, one red and one blue, from within his pocket. "Gifts from the children."

"Generous," Ryouken said. "Here's mine." He held out a small memory chip, no bigger than a fingernail. The children had told them that the waves had made the grooves in the chip, and neither he nor Ryouken had it in them to critique the silly thought. He'd been impressed the children had gathered so much from the shore. Their collection hadn't just been in one spot behind a rock; they had many from collecting for days, possibly even before the adults had realised junk was washing up in the sand. Now that Hal and Bohman were gone, they wouldn't be throwing any more junk off their ship to float to land.

There were other presents from the villagers too, ones that wouldn't fit in their pockets. Miyu had cut them several flowers and ferns from her botanic garden. Each flower had small, parchment-paper tag tied to its stem, and on it was its names. She knew the name of every plant that grew in her house and in the forests. Before they'd said farewell, she'd written a tag for them and asked them to pick their flowers. The result was a bouquet of red and white: roses, amaryllises, zinnias, and poppies; and daisies, hibiscuses, magnolia, and dahlias. He and Ryouken had only picked the flowers by their size and shape, and so he hoped there wasn't any odd flower language or unintentional symbolism. It hadn't been intended.

From Kiku, they had received two  _ heaping  _ plates of food. She hadn't let them pick what they wanted, yet suspiciously all the breads and rolls he liked—and some of the ones he was semi-certain he'd eaten only in the simulation—had ended up on his plate. Ryouken's plate was catered to his own tastes, sweeter and fruitier. Kiku had refused to take even a single roll off the plate. In her motherly tone, she'd told them, "You have a long trip ahead of you—don't think I don't know you can clear that plate in one afternoon." He'd swallowed back a laugh as he accepted it.

Takeru had given them each a sturdy, brown mug. Unlike Kiku and Miyu who had held out their gifts with wide smiles, Takeru had hid his behind his back until it was time to hand them over, and he'd held them between his shaking fingers. Nonetheless, they were proper stone mugs that would have cost a fortune in Den City from some local shop. When they walked to the train, he felt like he was carrying five-pound weights in each hand.

The presents sat on the seat across from them; though the train was only two carriages long, not a single person had gotten on or off the train despite stopping at two other stations.

Yuusaku twirled the wires round on his fingers. "Spectre said he'll take care of the ship, correct?"

"And the computer," Ryouken said.

"is he leaving the transmitter?"

"And the computer," Ryouken said, this time with a laugh. "I think the children like the screen. Or the mouse. Actually, yes, the mouse. The most exciting part of the computer."

"Imagine if they ever went to Den City." It would be like stepping into an alternate world.

"You'd lose them." Ryouken crossed his arms over again and said, "You'd lose them in a heartbeat."

"I'm sure they'd be ..." He laughed as he imagined the children scampering around the massive city. It would take all day and night to find just one of them, and no doubt they wouldn't stick together, running in opposite directions until they ran to the corners of the city. It was best that everyone from the village  _ stayed  _ in the village.

He flipped Ryouken's duel disk round and round in his pocket.

"And Spectre is going to show Takeru how to call?"

Ryouken raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you show him that?"

"He'll need another lesson," Yuusaku said, tucking his head down to hide a laugh. "There's no such thing as a one-button phone, and Takeru said, and I quote, 'If there are computers that can turn you into little particles and shove you into those wires, then how come there isn't a phone with just one button?'" Still, they had found Takeru a phone on the ship, comprised of  _ three  _ buttons. Yuusaku hadn't seen a phone so old since he went to the museum for a class field trip, but Hal and Bohman had had one in one of their boxes. They'd had practically every piece of technology known to humankind pre-VR era.

Ryouken took the duel disk from his hands and spun it round on one finger. "Did it truly confuse him to have three buttons even though he only has to press one?"

Yuusaku laughed outright. "I quote: 'If I only have to press one button, how come you can't just take these other two off?' Maybe Spectre will just tinker with it and fix the phone for him."

"Those other two at least know how to  _ dial,"  _ Ryouken said. He reached into his basket of goodies and pulled out a thickly-cut slice of fruit cake, somehow still warm despite them leaving the village hours ago.

Yuusaku plucked a croissant from his own bag, fluffy and flaky and only mildly buttery. Kiku knew his tastes far too well.

"They've dialed on a  _ rotary phone." _

Ryouken raised a slender eyebrow. "I don't think Hinosei is quite the technological fountain of a town. Pretty sure electric lights were a recent invention over there."

They leaned back into their seats, and for a moment just reveled in the moment. In the empty train car trekking down the ancient tracks. In the sweet-smelling cabin made of old seats and wooden furnishings, somehow looking more Meiji than Heisei. In the far-less-ventured north that had once seemed so empty. He could point to the village on a map now. Ai had shown him before, but he wouldn't have remembered until today when he showed the children just how far they had come. It  _ felt  _ like the long trip as they reclined on the seats and munched on their snacks. By the time the train did arrive in Den City the food would be gone.

"Did you check to make sure no child followed us and snuck onto this train?" Ryouken had the audacity to ask the question so seriously.

Yuusaku leaned further into his seat and rolled his eyes. Paused. Checked behind him just in case one of them—Ai, in particular—hopped aboard. The train was still empty.

"I wouldn't have been surprised if one of them had," Ryouken said, reclining even further and ruining his once-perfect posture. Perfect from before—it had been terrible since the beginning of the train ride.

"Did you think we'd miss seeing one as we trekked out here?" There wasn't much out by the station except, well, the station itself.

Ryouken took a jam-filled biscuit. "There have been greater mysteries."

Yuusaku held up his duel disk. "Like this. Look, service." In the corner of his duel disk were two small bars. He peered out the window to spot the first cluster of buildings he'd seen since the start of the train ride; the previous two stops had been no more than a raised concrete slab stationed in the middle of an empty field. Here, there were proper stone and wood buildings, and advertising signs, and far, far off in the distance, he thought he saw the bright arches of McDonalds. Any modern city would have at least one of those.

He clicked open his phone and dialed for Kusanagi. Not a minute later, the device clicked.

"How'd it go?"

"We're heading back home. You?"

Kusanagi scratched at his chin, paused, and then smiled so widely it would have lit up a room. "Everything is well, both here in Den City and across the pond in Link Vrains. Your friends are setting up well."

"Hal and Bohman."

"Yes, them." Kusanagi rubbed at his chin again, then pulled up a separate window in the video chat for Yuusaku to see several photos that had been captured by the news reporters of Link Vrains. Hal and Bohman were in the corner of one such photo, watching a Speed Duel on the large monitor. They stood side by side, eyes sparkling, mouths slightly parted. Of the entire audience, they looked the most thrilled. Likely they'd never seen such sights in their lives.

"That's them, ain't it?"

Yuusaku nodded, words caught in his throat.

Another image appeared in the second screen, this one of a Blue Angel concert. Naturally, Naoki was at the front as her greatest fan, but just past him was the telltale spark of blond hair. Hal was seated on Bohman's shoulders, and together the two of them were watching the concert. They looked like fishes out of water in this shot: while the other fans were cheering, throwing their hands in the air, waving glow sticks to the beat of the song, Hal and Bohman were standing as still as statues. They looked like they were attending an orchestra, silently but pleasantly observing the event.

"I'm sure they've been keeping busy," Kusanagi said, swiping his hands from side to side as he brought up and closed several different windows. "Those are the only photos I've seen, but still ..."

"They're adjusting well." Ryouken even sounded impressed.

"And you both?" Kusanagi had his eyes on Yuusaku, ever the guardian even when Yuusaku himself was a grown adult.

"I'm fine."

Kusanagi pursed his lips together. Yuusaku prepared himself for a lecture.

"You look rested."

Instead, he froze at the words. Compliment? How was he meant to take the words he was unprepared for?

"You look rested," Kusanagi continued, "and I'm glad, at the end of the trip, you've stopped growing grey hair and wrinkles. I'm supposed to look older than you, all right?"

He fumbled for words to reply with. "I feel ... rested." He did. His chair was stiff and the train ride long, but a part of him never wanted to get up—and not for a depressive reason. Spending the afternoon on the train felt far less boring and tedious than he'd once thought. Ryouken must have been of similar opinion if his own laissez posture was a sign. He had an arm wrapped around Yuusaku's shoulders, raised slightly off his next. Even slouched, Ryouken was taller, and his cheek pressed against Yuusaku's temple.

"Will you continue to check on them for me until I return?" Yuusaku asked.

"Of course."

"Thank you." He clicked the phone closed and settled back into the seat. Ryouken tugged him closer, leaving no more than a hair's breadth of space between their chests.

"You do look rested," Ryouken said, brushing a hair from his nose.

Yuusaku tucked himself closer and let his body sink in. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine he was lying on a fluffy cloud travelling through the sky, or sea foam coasting across even waters. And he did let his eyes roll closed.

"Wake me ..." He yawned and rubbed at one eye, but it remained closed. "When we're ... there."

The next time he opened his eyes, it was to Ryouken's hand brushing his cheek. He jumped as he came to, but the panic was short-lived as he spotted the last buildings before they descended into a tunnel.

"We're home." Ryouken kissed his temple and helped him up. Yuusaku shook of the lingering fear and let the peace wash over him. The tunnel opened up into the great underground station, lit with harsh, fluorescent lights and built of power-washed stone. The noises in the station echoed off every surface, and though only he and Ryouken exited their train, many other trains were stationed. People were everywhere. Talking, walking, standing—after being in the village for so long and seeing the same nine people every day, it was a shock in its own right to see so many new faces. He balked on the platform as he spotted the holographic advertisements and large televisions displaying new merchandise for television shows, random appliances, and famous celebrities. There hadn't been any of that in the village either.

He pushed his fingers into his ears and headed off the platform, Ryouken quick on his heels.

Outside, it was still loud and busy, and oddly much more so despite the lack of non-echoey walls and cramped spaces. There were more billboards and televisions both at eye-level and above his head. Some of them even had blaring sound effects. The buses were even louder, driving around blocks blasting the newest J-Pop hit.

How had he ever blocked out so many noises?

Ryouken's hands settled over his ears, and together they began to walk out of the city. Their house was but a ten minute walk from the station, twisting and turning down several sidestreets. Every block was busy. Every house had people outside of it. For a crisp, pre-winter day, the entirety of Den City seemed to be under the impression that it was good weather for outings and excursions. Then again, in the village everyone had been outside too, or busy within their shops. There wasn't a quiet day there either ... It was just quieter in general.

Eventually, the people-y congestion ebbed away. The closer they walked to the seaside, mountainside villa, the quieter it became. The wind picked up too, sweeping down the boardwalk and across the empty shore. Not a single people walked along the beach. The waves crashed onto the wet pebbles and snaked up towards the stairs, yet there was a foot or two of sand left. Enough to walk upon without worrying about getting your feet wet.

Ryouken guided him towards the steps.

Their beach was rockier yet warmer. The coast was dotted with white shells and black-blue rocks. Walking in a straight line was out of the question when the shore was wet and slippery, so he and Ryouken were forced to meander forward, letting the beach determine their path. They passed washed-up logs and stumps from the lumber factory up north—though not quite as north as the village. Passed several lost flip-flops. Yuusaku searched the shores for any wires, but if someone lost anything electronic down by the water, it would have been their cell phone, and someone else would have collected it.

When Ryouken removed his hands from around his ears, Yuusaku found he couldn't hear anything but the wind. No voices. No screaming. He waited for a child to call out to him, as children would always be on the beach or in the trees, waiting to spook them. They walked all the way to the end of the beach where the sand met the cliffs without ever running into another person. The end of the beach was rockier; sand slipped off where the ground rose to become the cliffside. Ryouken's house wasn't directly above them, but if he craned his next round the corner he could imagine the balcony just a couple feet further, jutting out from the cliff and overlooking the wild sea. Unlike the north coast, the southern part of the ocean crashed and tumbled. Sea spray stung his eyes and lips. In the morning, there would be frost along the rocks and cliffside, but the sea had washed it all away.

The city was far, far behind him. 

He lied down on the beach. The initial chill couldn't affect him; he'd been frozen to the bone ever since they stepped off the train. Ryouken lied down next to him, shoulder to shoulder.

A pause.

"Is there a reason we're lying out here?"

"I don't want to go home yet."

Ryouken suppressed a sigh. "Because then vacation will be over?"

He turned to Ryouken. Sea mist dusted Ryouken's dark lashes framing such iridescent blue eyes. How someone so fair had such a striking gaze put an extra arrow in his heart.

"Don't you want to return home? Get back to Link Vrains?"

"... not really." If he was honest, the only time he'd thought of Link Vrains was to check in on Hal and Bohman. His mind had been much more preoccupied with when he ought to call Takeru and the others. He'd thought about what he wanted to do when he returned home too, but he hadn't considered Link Vrains. Hadn't thought for a second about it.

"We'll have to take another vacation then," Ryouken said.

Yuusaku rolled his eyes. "Never said I wanted to go all the way to the north."

"But you thought it?" Ryouken brushed his cheek with his hand, and pinched it for good measure. "I'm glad you liked your vacation, even if it was a bit hectic."

"You couldn't have planned for that ..."

"But there were times I wish I could have."

He snuggled closer, nose to nose. For how chilly it was, Ryouken's breaths felt as warm as a dragon blowing air over his face.

"Did you like it?" Yuusaku asked. His lips moved against Ryouken's cheek. Steady. Also warm despite the chill in his bones.

"I liked spending it with you."

Yuusaku blew a breath against Ryouken's cheeks. "That's avoiding the question."

"I liked it then."

"You don't sound convinced."

"I'm not a people-person."

"Neither am I, and I think they liked the both of us." Or at least, at the end they did. Takeru had been all smiles and tears at their farewell. All three of the adults and the children were the huggy types, as Yuusaku found out, but in the end he high-fived the children and smiled to the adults. They took the grateful action with more tears and farewells.

"Do you miss them?" Ryouken asked.

"Yes."

Gentle hands pulled him closer. They'd cuddled so many times before, Yuusaku was certain his clothing had begun to smell like Ryouken.

"Vacation isn't over until we go home," Ryouken said.

He chuckled into Ryouken's shoulder and nestled closer. They'd be out on the beach for a while then, beside the sea and along the stars. And if he closed his eyes, he could picture he was lying on another beach—a starless beach, but a beautiful one all the same.


End file.
